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foffliehr N° (L . 

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MADEMOISELLE 
OF CAMBRAI 



MADEMOISELLE 
OF CAMBRAI 


DAVID SKAATS FOSTER 


THE FRANKLIN BOOK COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 

NEW YORK 


(iur^ 




COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY 
DAVID SKAATS FOSTER 



Vl 

V 


©CI.A576589 


By DAVID SKAATS FOSTER 


T he Road to London 
The Divided Medal 
Our Uncle William 
The Kidnapped Damozel 
Flighty Arethusa 
Spanish Castles by the Rhine 
The Benevolent Bandits 
Mademoiselle of Cam bra i 
The Lady of Castle Queer 
Rebecca the Witch (Poems) 







CONTENTS 


CHAP. PAGE 

I. The Dowager Countess 9 

II. Outwitting the Boche 22 

III. The Wines of Keranec 35 

IV. Father Max 53 

V. Colette, the Incorrigible 68 

VI. The Pigeon Post 81 

VII. The Fateful Kiss 95 

VIII. Louvac’s New Chimney 109 

IX. “Vive la France !” 124 

X. Visiting the Countess 137 

XI. Zellner’s Kultur 152 

XII. Defining a “Gimper” 166 

XIII. Kidnapped 180 

XIV. The Great Offensive 195 

XV. Death for Jaqueline 211 

XVI. Making Stirpitz Useful. 225 

XVII. Six Silver Candlesticks 239 

XVIII. Navigating the Scheldt 253 

XIX. Granny Desmoulins 269 

XX. Ghosts of Children.. 281 

XXI. Saved by a Halter 294 

XXII. Spurlos Versenkt 306 

XXIII. The Whippet Tank 319 

XXIV. Decorations 333 












Mademoiselle of Gambrai 


CHAPTER I 
The Dowager Countess 

The ancient French City of Cambrai stands upon 
the right bank of the Scheldt river in the department 
Du Nord of Northern France. The Scheldt river is 
called “The Scheldt river” only in Holland, where it 
empties into the sea. It is called “the river Escaut” in 
Belgium and France, and is navigable for barges and 
small steamboats as far up as Cambrai. Above Cam- 
brai, it meanders, twisting and turning, some twenty or 
thirty miles to the southwest, passing through Noyelles, 
Marcoing and Ribecourt, skirting the immense forest of 
Avrincourt and finding its source in the woods of Velu. 
For most of this distance south of Cambrai, it may be 
navigated by skiffs and small boats. 

The city of Cambrai is very old, almost as old as the 
Christian religion. About the year 450 it was erected 
into a bishropric of the Roman church. When one re- 
flects that this period antedated by over a thousand 
years the discovery of America, one realizes how very, 
very old is the city of Cambrai. 

The town is and always has been a fortified strong- 

9 


10 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMERA I 


hold. It is surrounded by thick, stout walls which are 
flanked and dominated by big, round towers. In the 
walls are several gateways. One of these gateways, 
which is called the “Scheldt River Gate,” leads outward 
to a very old and massive stone bridge, a beautiful four- 
teenth century bridge which crosses the Scheldt to the 
main highway stretching along the further bank of the 
river. 

The city is intersected by great numbers of narrow, 
crooked and twisting streets in which a person might 
easily lose himself. It contains many queer, ancient, 
Gothic houses! and shops. The upper stories of these 
gabled structures project over the streets, which are 
often so narrow that a fairly athletic person might leap 
from an upper front window to the window facing him 
across the thoroughfare. 

Upon entering the Scheldt or River gate, one .finds, 
immediately to the right and next the wall, a small pub- 
lic square, or park. Back of the square there is a street, 
and beyond the street and also next the city wall, in an 
acre of grounds, stands the mansion, or chateau of the 
noble family of Keranec. It is a long, three-storied 
building of crumbling stone and brick, half covered 
with ivy, and consists of a main or central body with a 
wing at either end. The grounds are covered for the 
most part with a dense growth of shrubs and trees, and 
the whole place is enclosed with an eight foot brick 
moss-grown wall in which, opposite the main door of 
the chateau stands a pair of rusty, iron gates. The 


THE DOWAGER COUNTESS 


11 


house is between three and four hundred years old and 
has been occupied by the Keranec family, father and 
son, grandson and great grandson for over three cen- 
turies. It was now the spring of 1918, and since the 
autumn of 1914, Count Victor de Keranec, the present 
head of the house, and his son Paul de Keranec had 
been fighting with the armies of France, the former as 
a Colonel of Dragoons, the latter a flier in the aviation 
corps. For four years the estate had had no care, the 
vegetation had run wild, some of the window panes had 
been broken, and there was a look of desolation and 
abandonment about the place. 

Before the great war Cambrai had a population of 
twenty -five thousand. It had been, taken by the German 
armies in the fall of 1914, and had been occupied by 
them ever since. With the flight of all those who could 
get away in time, with the killing of old men and old 
women, the transportation and exile of able-bodied 
men to far-off fields of labor, the kidnapping of hun- 
dreds of girls and the starving of children the popula- 
tion had been much reduced. In the spring of 1918 the 
once beautiful and happy city of Cambrai contained 
about five thousand human beings and some thirty 
thousand Germans. 

The Chateau of Keranec, during the German occu- 
pation of the city, had been pillaged two or three times 
but, strange to say, a great part of its rich collection of 
solid old mahogany furniture, its valuable tapestries, 
paintings and books still remained in the house. The 


12 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


Germans who invaded the mansion were looking for 
something else. The rumor had gone abroad that the 
Keranec cellars were stocked with a tremendous quan- 
tity of rare and costly wines. The bodies, though, 
sought in vain, for not a bottle was found in any part of 
the premises. 

In the early summer of 1918, General Stollberg, 
whose full title was Major General Baron Hugo Von 
Stollberg, who commanded a corps of the German 
army and who was the German mdlitary governor of 
Cambrai, cast his glance upon the Keranec chateau, and 
found it very good and much to his liking. 

“Why, in der Teufel’s namen,” asked he of his aide, 
Stirpitz, “haven’t we utilized that old French warren? 
It would make a most pleasant and convenient residenz, 
and there’s a lot of room beside for our business offices. 
I could make it corps headquarters. This place here is 
too public. One can’t relax, or throw off the bonds of 
conventionality without everybody knowing it. Go you 
straightway to the Keranec house and see if there’s any- 
body there, and what the inside of the place looks like.” 

“Zum befehl, Herr General,” said Stirpitz, saluting 
and leaving the General’s office. 

An hour later the General’s aide returned. 

“Well, how did you find it?” asked General Stoll- 
berg. “What does the inside look like, and how is it 
furnished?” 

“Couldn’t be better, Herr General,” answered Stir- 
pitz, “the rooms are big, light and beautiful, and the 


THE DOWAGER COUNTESS 


13 


furnishing magnificent. I was astonished to find so 
much left in the house. It will make the most com- 
fortable place in the world. There’s one drawback, 
though, there’s an old woman there.” 

“An old woman! What old woman?” 

“She’s the old grandmother, the dowager Countess 
Mathilde de Keranec. She lives in the right wing, and 
I didn’t see her. I was let in by an ancient female ser- 
vant, and she told me about the family. Victor, the 
present Count is a Colonel in the French army opposite 
our lines. His son, Paul, is in the French aviation 
service and his only daughter is a Red Cross nurse at 
Paris. The old woman seems to have! been left here. 
Couldn’t get away, probably.” 

“Blast her ! We’ll have her thrown out. Why didn’t 
they leave the daughter here instead of the old woman ? 
I wouldn’t object to the daughter, would you, Stirpitz? 
I think I’ll have the car brought around, and run over 
there.” 

The General’s car was brought to the doors of the 
Hotel de Ville which he was then using for his head- 
quarters, and thej general, with Hauptman Zellner and 
Ober Leitnant Stirpitz, two members of his staff, drove 
to the Keranec chateau. Entering the broad gateway 
to the grounds, the car drew up before the great oaken 
doors of the building, the three officers dismounted and 
Stirpitz sounded the brass knocker noisily. After a 
long interval and much pounding, the doors were 
opened by a stout female servant of sixty years, or 


14 MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 

thereabout, a woman of harsh features and a forbidding 
aspect. 

“Tell Madam, the Countess of Keranec, that Gen- 
eral, the Baron von Stollberg, wishes to see her,” com- 
manded Lieutenant Stirpitz. “Have her come down 
immediately.” 

“That is impossible,” answered the old woman. 
“Her ladyship, my mistress, is abed. The poor lady 
has been bedridden these many months. I will take my 
mistress your message.” 

“That won’t do,” declared General Stollberg. “I 
will have to see her. Go and get her ready, and be 
quick about it. I haven’t any time to waste.” 

The old servant went away grumbling, and the 
General with his aides entered the building after her. 
Coming through the doors of the vestibule, they found 
themselves in a spacious hallway, and going through 
another door at the further end of the hallway, they 
came into a large chamber, full forty feet across and 
twenty-five feet deep. On the opposite wall there was 
a gallery which was reached by a stair at either end, 
and upon the gallery, at right angles with the front of 
it, stood shelves of books. The room seemed to be a 
combination of salon and library. It was furnished 
sparsely, but with great richness. There were large 
Turkish rugs upon the floors, rare tapestries, portraits 
and landscapes hung upon the walls, a long stout oaken 
table stood in the center of the chamber, and pieces of 
ancient, carved mahogany were scattered here and there. 


THE DOWAGER COUNTESS 


15 


“Fine, fine!” exclaimed the General. “Just the 
place for our offices, our audience chamber and our 
court. A good room also for a banquet now and then. 
Doubtless the rest of the house is as comfortable, as 
well furnished and as commodious. I foresee that I am 
going to enjoy myself here. What a pity that we didn’t 
discover the chateau before ! The only drawback is the 
old woman. We’ll have to get rid of her, but there 
will be a certain amount of unpleasantness about it. 
The Keranec family is an important one, and we can’t 
throw her out without raising a lot of talk. Her son 
has influence and there may be reprisals and retaliation. 
Of course, though, she has to go. The old cat would 
be a constant annoyance, and we might wish to do some 
things here that we would not want her to know about.” 

“Suppose,” suggested Hauptman Zellner, “that 
something should happen, to the old woman which 
would obviate the necessity of throwing her out?” 

“Zellner,” said the General, “you have a quick wit, 
and a devilishly inventive genius. Recollect though, 
that I know nothing and that I have suggested 
nothing.” 

The old servant now came, and announcing that 
her mistress was ready to receive them, led them 
through a passage into the right wing of the chateau, 
then up a stairway and into a darkened bed chamber. 
By the dim light which came from the curtained win- 
dows, the general and his aides made out a huge, four 
poster, canopied bed, upon which, under a pile of bed 


16 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


clothes, so that only a small part of her face and head 
was visible, lay the slim figure of the old Countess. She 
wore a white cap, her hair was snowy white and her 
face almost as white as her hair. Her eyes, though, 
were black and sparkling. 

“Good morning, Monsieur le General,” said she in 
a weak and quavering voice. 

“Madam,” said General Stollberg, harshly and 
without preamble, “we find it necessary to occupy your 
house. Our present quarters are inconvenient and im- 
possible, and there is no other building at the present 
time available or adequate. Of course you will have to 
move out, and you will have to go today. That is im- 
perative.” 

“But, Monsieur le General,” protested the old lady 
with a husky voice, “I can’t move. It is impossible. It 
would impair my health, perhaps endanger my life. I 
haven’t stirred from my bed in weeks. Besides this is 
my house. I have lived here all my life, and I have no 
other home to go to.” 

“Nevertheless, you will have to go. and that today. 
These are my orders, and they are final.” 

“Listen, Monsieur le General, I will tell you some- 
thing, something which will induce you to permit me to 
live here. All I want is this little wing of the chateau. 
You are at liberty to use all the rest of the building. 
Listen a moment. Have you ever heard of the immense 
and costly stock of wines belonging to the Ke ranee 
family?” 


THE DOWAGER COUNTESS 


17 


“Yes, I have,” answered the General, pricking up his 
ears, “who has not heard of it? I have heard too that 
the wine is gone, vanished, evaporated into thin air. 
My soldiers have looked for it several times, and 
haven't found a bottle, and believe nfe, Madam, when a 
German soldier cannot find wine bottles, there are no 
wine bottles.” 

“That is a mistake, General. The Keranec wines are 
still intact, still in existence and still upon the premises. 
They are, however, so well hidden that your soldiers 
couldn’t find them, so artfully concealed that you your- 
self couldn’t find them in a thousand years. I will de- 
scribe them to you. In the first place, there are over 
one hundred and ninety cases of them, each case con- 
taining a dozen bottles. Twenty-three hundred bottles, 
just think of it, Monsieur le General. And such wines, 
oh, sifch wines ! Wines of the Champagne district, vin- 
tage wines of 1905, 1900, 1891, 1880, and even 1870, 
wines of Burgundy, red wines and white wines, Clos de 
Vougeot and Chablis, of an age incredible, wines of the 
Moselles, fermented in the last century, Sauternes of the 
clearest amber and Lachrymae Christi like the nectar of 
the gods, wines of Bordeaux, Pontet Canet, Chateau la 
Rose and Chateau La Fitte, the drinking of which 
would make you think yourself in paradise.” 

General, the Baron von Stollberg, was a man of 
sixty, a gross and sensual man with thick lips and a 
bibulous and highly colored nose. During the Countess’ 
recital, his eyes scintillated, he smacked his lips more 

2 


18 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


than once, and scarce kept from drooling at the mouth. 

“Countess,” said he, with more affability than he 
had previously shown, “your account of the Keranec 
wine collection bears out everything which I have heard 
concerning it. That doesn’t alter the fact, however, 
that you) must vacate the chateau, and that immediately. 
Before you go, though, I hope that we may be able to 
induce you to reveal its whereabouts. We have certain 
ways, Madam, for making people talk. I hope that you 
will not put us to the trouble of using them.” 

“Ah, I see what you mean. You propose to torture 
me until I show you where the wine is hidden. That is 
part of your German Kultur, and is in line with your 
usual tactics. I will say though, and I swear it, that 
you will never get one word out of me, no matter what 
you do to my poor old body. Even in the agony of 
death I will be silent. If you are acquainted with the 
Keranec character, you will know that this is so. Fur- 
thermore, if you cause even so much as a finger to be 
laid upon me, your hopes of tasting the contents of the 
Keranec wine cellars will vanish. On the other hand, I 
will agree to give you one half of our wine collection 
upon certain conditions.” 

“Madam, you make me laugh. We do not take 
conditions from a conquered enemy. We make them.” 

“Monsieur le General, when you call the French a 
conquered enemy, you also make me laugh. You have, 
it is true, overrun a small part, perhaps a one hundredth 
part of our beloved France. The time will soon come, 


THE DOWAGER COUNTESS 


19 


however, when you will be driven out of our land, and 
made to pay a hundred fold for the atrocities which you 
have committed.” 

“Have a care, Madam, that you do not end my 
patience with your injurious talk,” wrathfully ex- 
claimed General Stollberg. “If, as you say, your stock 
of grape juice is still upon the premises, we can find it, 
also, I promise you that we shall find it, even if we have 
to pull the chateau to pieces, and dig up every foot of 
the grounds. What is to prevent then our taking your 
wine without any conditions?” 

“Nothing at all, providing you can find it. You are 
at liberty to commence looking for it right away. I 
tell you now though, that you will assuredly fail. It 
was hidden by my son, Count Victor de Keranec, who 
is now a Colonel in the French Army opposing you. 
Victor never does anything by halves, as you will find 
out, after you have spent an eternity in your search. It 
was in August of 1914, that he perfected his arrange- 
ments. He knew that you Germans would be more 
concerned about the wine than anything else upon the 
estate, and he knew that if he could hide it successfully, 
that we would have a lever to use upon you which 
would make you be good. The delay in your advance 
caused by the delightful little entertainments which the 
Belgians gave you before Liege and Ghent and Ant- 
werp gave him plenty of time so that he was able to 
proceed in a scientific and leisurely manner. After 
completing the receptacle in which the wine was to be 


20 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


hidden, he had all the bottles taken from the cellar bins, 
packed in boxes and stored neatly in the aforesaid re- 
ceptacle. Find them if you can.” 

“We will find them, Madam, never fear. Just for 
the amusement of it though, I would like to hear the 
conditions which you spoke of.” 

“The conditions under which I will give you half 
the wine stock are these — I am to have the undisputed 
use of this wing of the chateau. The doors between 
this wing and the main part of the house are to be 
boarded up, and no one of you is ever to set foot in this 
end of the building. You may avail yourself of the 
grounds in front of the chateau, but I am to have the 
sole use of the grounds in the rear. You may use the 
front gates, but I alone will have the key to the small 
postern gate in the wall back of the chateau. Further- 
more, I will want safe conduct and protection for my- 
self and for my three servants : for Rachael Prevost, my 
cook and housekeeper, Jaqueline Benoit, my maid, and 
Jean Courcel, a boy of fifteen, who works about the 
place and runs upon errands. They are to go as they 
wish to all parts of the city, and through the gates of the 
city, both out and in. They will have passes or cards, 
I think you call them ‘Sicheres geleit and schutz Karte,’ 
and your police in all parts of the city are to have 
special instructions in regard to the safety of these 
three servants. That, I think, is all.” 

“Oh, that is all, is it? Are you sure there is nothing 
more you want? Madam, your demands are prepos- 


THE DOWAGER COUNTESS 


21 


terous, and I reject them in toto. We shall commence 
our search of the premises this very hour, and I give 
you my word that we shall succeed. You may remain 
here for the present. When we find those one hun- 
dred ninety cases, I will deal with you as you deserve.” 

“I wish you luck, Monsieur le General.” 

As General Stollberg and his aides stamped out of 
the chateau and took to the stairs, the old lady gave a 
derisive cackle of laughter. 


CHAPTER II 
Outwitting the Boche 


The General paused for a moment irresolute, his red 
face was contorted with rage, and he wanted to go back 
into the chamber and hack the old lady to mince-meat 
with his sword. It wouldn't do, however, and he was 
forced to stifle his frantic desires. He might thereby 
lose all chance of smacking his lips over the choice vin- 
tages of the Keranec cellars, and he dared not risk it. 
His hopes of salvation were not as important to him as 
the prospect of satisfying so amply his inordinate and 
epicurean tastes. Count Victor de Keranec had been 
wise in his concealment of the treasure. By doing so 
he had safeguarded his poor old mother beyond the sha- 
dow of a doubt. 

“Zellner,” commanded the General, “take the car 
and bring a corporal’s guard from the barracks. We 
will commence our search right away, and keep it up 
until we succeed. One hundred and ninety cases of 
wine bulk pretty large, and can’t be stored away in a 
corner, or a hole in the wall. They couldn’t have hid- 
den such a lot of boxes so that we can’t find them. Gott 
im Himmel, it’s impossible!” 

Hauptman Zellner drove away in the car, and the 


22 


OUTWITTING THE BOCHE 


23 


General, with Stirpitz, his remaining aide, strolled 
about the first floor of the chateau and finally descended 
to the cellar. It was an immense cavern, the Keranec 
cellar, with a vaulted roof of stone, supported by arches 
and columns. In one end of it they found the wine 
vaults, and here they lingered an appreciable time. The 
walls were lined with many shelves, shelves with scal- 
loped fronts for the accommodation of bottles. They 
were covered with cobwebs, the necessary accompani- 
ment of old vintages, and there seemed to be no end of 
them. As General Stollberg and his aide sorrowfully 
gazed at all these empty spaces, they tried to imagine 
them filled with the twenty-three hundred bottles, which 
the old Countess had spoken of. 

Presently Hauptman Zellner returned with the cor- 
poral’s guard, and the eight soldiers were at once put to 
work upon the problem of finding the wine cases. Com- 
mencing with the cellar, they examined every course of 
mortar in the walls, but found no new work, nothing 
which indicated the taking out of a single stone. They 
ripped out a number of the stones but the result was 
the same. Then they pried up a lot of the flags from 
the cellar floor and thrust sharp steel rods a long dis- 
tance into the earth. They encountered no resistance, 
except the natural resistance of the soil, and the surface 
of the soil itself looked as if it had not been removed in 
fifty years. 

“It isn’t in the cellar,” declared the General, emphatic- 
ally, after they had worked all of six hours. “It may 


24 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAM BRA I 


be in the upper part of the house, or they may have 
buried it in the grounds. Gott strafe die Teuf elhunde, 
for the trouble they are making us.” 

The rest of the day was spent upon the first, second 
and third floors of the chateau. Every chamber, closet, 
nook and corner was inspected, floors were ripped up, 
walls cut open, and all the chambers were measured, and 
these measurements compared with measurements of 
other apartments and of outside walls, so that hidden 
spaces and secret chambers might be found, if there were 
any such. They even went upon the roof of the build- 
ing, examined the copings and the cornices, and dangled 
stones down the chimneys with stout cords. When 
night came, however, they had discovered absolutely 
nothing. 

The next day was spent upon the grounds of the 
estate. Sharp steel rods were pounded into the earth at 
intervals of five or six feet, until every part of the entire 
area had been gone over. There was a stone curbed 
well in the midst of the shrubbery, some distance to the 
rear of the building. One of the soldiers descended this 
well about fifteen feet, to the surface of the water, by 
placing his feet on protruding stones and bracing him- 
self against the side walls, and thrust a pole to the bot- 
tom of the well. They examined the surface of the 
wall which encircled the grounds, prying out the mortar, 
and removing some of the stones. They took up a 
great part of the flagging of a marble summer house, 
or kiosk which stood in the middle of the flower garden, 


OUTWITTING THE BOCHE 


25 


and poked their rods into the earth beneath. They even 
demolished a small brick smoke house and tore up the 
basin of an unused fountain. When night came at 
last, all their toil had gone for naught, and they were 
no nearer a solution of the mystery than when they 
started the day before. 

“Du lieber Gott!” cursed General the Baron von 
Stollberg. “It is that we have to cry quits, that we have 
to lie down and surrender, that we have to take terms 
from that old she fox? Der Teufel hoi die verdammte 
hexe !” 

The next morning at ten o’clock, General Stollberg 
presented himself at the Chateau Keranec, and was 
shown again to the darkened chamber of the old 
Countess by her serving woman. He held himself erect 
and strove to hide his discomfiture under a bold and 
uncompromising front. With his breadth of beam, his 
protruding gray eyes, his red mottled face and his 
bristling mustache he resembled somewhat his overlord, 
Field Marshal Von Hindenburg. He had been told of 
this resemblance many times by his coterie of underlings 
and sycophants and he neglected no touch of dress or 
manner to make the likeness more perfect. 

“You do not look as if you had found the treasure,” 
said the Countess with a mocking laugh. 

“Madam, it has not yet been found. That is not to 
say, however, that we could not discover it, if we con- 
tinued our search. By razing your old rat trap of a 
house to the earth, rooting up the trees and plowing 


26 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


every foot of the grounds, we would most certainly un- 
earth it, but that would defeat my own purpose which is 
to make the chateau miy headquarters and provide my- 
self with a comfortable residence. There is also the. 
extra time and trouble to be taken into consideration. I 
have wasted too much effort upon the matter already, 
and I am now willing to talk of terms.” 

“My dear General,” answered the old lady, sar- 
castically, “I sympathize with you deeply in your defeat. 
You poor, poor man! I told you how it would be, 
didn’t I? I understand then that you are ready to 
agree to the conditions which I named.” 

“We will let it be so understood. Some of your con- 
ditions are quite irregular, and there are difficulties in 
the way, but I think that I can manage it all as you 
wish. Are you quite sure that you are not lying to me 
when you say the goods are upon the premises ?” 

“Absolutely. It is not usual for a high army officer 
to suggest that a lady is telling lies, but I will pass that 
over on account of your being a German. Now then, 
for my part of the contract. Today is Tuesday. If 
you will come here on the morning of Friday, I will 
deliver to you ninety-five cases or thereabouts of wine.” 

“But you said. Madam, that there were one hundred 
and ninety cases.” 

“So I did, but I think that it will be safer to give it 
to you in installments, half now and the other half at a 
later date. When you have once sampled the ninety-five 
cases of the first installment, you will want to make 


OUTWITTING THE BOCHE 


27 


sure of eventually getting possession of the remaining 
ninety-five cases, and you will govern your conduct ac- 
cordingly. You doubtless see what I mean.” 

“Madam, do you propose to insinuate that I will 
not keep my agreement with you ?” 

“I propose nothing of the kind. I know very well 
you will keep your agreement. You will keep your 
agreement because you can’t do anything else. If you 
were anybody but a German, I wouldn’t take this pre- 
caution. You Germans have taught the world not to 
depend upon your word. You make the most solemn 
agreements only to break them, and call them scraps of 
paper.” 

“Very well, Madam,” replied General Stollberg, 
with difficulty repressing an inclination to pound the old 
woman into a pulp. “I will be satisfied for the present 
with the ninety-five cases. What is the reason, though, 
for the delay ? Why must we wait three days ? What 
is to prevent you from delivering them today or to- 
morrow ?” 

“There are several good reasons for the delay. It 
will take time to unearth such a quantity of packages 
from a hiding place so secure and inaccessible as the 
one which I possess, I can’t get at the business until the 
second night from to-night, and I can’t make delivery 
until the following day. I must ask you also to refrain 
from setting spies upon the house and grounds upon 
the night in question in order that you may discover the 
secret of our hiding place. You cannot do so without 


28 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


our knowing it, and you will defeat your own ends, as 
we shall at once suspend operations.” 

The Countess gave this warning because of a suspi- 
cious glint in the General’s eye which told her that he 
meditated doing this very same thing. 

“There is no getting the best of the sly old wolf,” 
grumbled the General as he left the chateau. 

That night, as soon as it became dark, the girl, 
Jaqueline, a maiden of twenty, with dark eyes and 
hair, a slender yet shapely figure and an oval face which, 
though pretty and interesting, was somewhat pale, 
came from the chateau down through the shrubbery of 
the grounds to the rear wall, unlocked the small door in 
the wall, and let herself out into the lane. She darted 
here and there, crept stealthily from shadow to shadow, 
always keeping to srriall and unfrequented streets and 
narrow passages between buildings, until she had gone 
several blocks and had come into a strait and gloomy 
alleyway. She had encountered several small strag- 
gling bodies of soldiers but, by her alertness, circum- 
spection and subtlety had escaped them all. A young 
girl who traversed the streets of Cambrai at night in 
those days ran a very great risk, and the girl who did it 
was a brave girl indeed. 

Upon this alleyway stood the rear walls of a num- 
ber of dilapidated brick houses or shops, structures 
which fronted upon the street beyond. One of these 
houses contained the bake shop of Martin Louvac, or 
Papa Louvac as he was commonly called by the people 


OUTWITTING THE BOCHE 


29 


of the neighborhood. Jaqueline gave a peculiar rap, or 
succession of raps upon the rear or kitchen door of Mar- 
tin Louvac’s house, the door was almost immediately 
opened, and she stepped inside. Papa Louvac’s wife, a 
stout, good-natured woman of fifty, who had opened 
the door for Jaqueline, seized the girl in her arms, 
hugged her closely and kissed her upon both cheeks. 
The woman had been Jaqueline’s foster mother, and 
there had always 1 existed a great affection between them. 

“Jaqueline, my darling,” Madam Louvac exclaimed, 
“I am filled with joy at seeing you. It is so long since 
1 have had the pleasure. But you shouldn’t have come. 
The streets of Cambrai, especially at night, are no 
place for young girls. The bodies might have got you. 
Something must have happened. What is it? Tell me 
quickly.” 

“Something has happened, Mama Louvac, and I 
must see Papa Louvac at once. Go into the shop and 
fetch him out. I don’t want to go there, at least not 
now.” 

“Wait here my child, and I will bring him at once.” 

Saying this, the woman left the kitchen, shutting 
the door carefully after her, and going through another 
room and a passageway, came into the large shop or 
store of the bakery. This room contained several al- 
coves with benches and tables, also there were tables 
with chairs arranged about the floor, where the patrons 
of the place might sit and eat cakes and sweetmeats and 
drink eau sucre and other harmless beverages. At 


30 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


one side of the shop there was a counter, covered with 
a glass show case, and behind the counter, upon the wall 
were arranged shelves, both show case and shelves be- 
ing filled with the products of the bakery. A few of 
the alcoves and tables were occupied by young German 
officers, and behind the counter, waiting upon a custo- 
mer, stood Martin Louvac, a harmless, inoffensive ap- 
pearing man some years older than his wife. Martin 
Louvac was long and lean, he was clean shaven, slightly 
bald and had a mild blue eye. He did not seem to be a 
very strong man, but his looks in this respect were 
deceptive, as he had the muscles of a prize fighter. Also, 
he was not nearly so mild and inoffensive as one would 
think to look at him. Several presumptuous trouble- 
seeking individuals had found this out to their cost. 
Mother Louvac came behind the counter and whispered 
to him. He at once took off his apron and followed 
her to the kitchen. When he saw Jaqueline, he seized 
both her hands and pumped her arms up and down. 

“What is it, ma petite?” he asked, after he had 
shown sufficiently how much he thought of her. 

Jaqueline entered into a long explanation and gave 
him a number of accurately detailed instructions. He 
nodded and patted her shoulder as she talked. It was 
plainly to be seen that her word was law to him. 

“It shall be done, Jaqueline, ma petite,” he assured 
her when she had finished. “I shall depart this minute, 
and you may expect us at the exact moment which you 
have set. You may depend upon us, ma cherie, to the 
limit.” 


OUTWITTING THE BOCHE 


31 


Jaqueline kissed Mother Louvac, slipped out of the 
kitchen door into the lane, and hurried back to the 
Keranec chateau as stealthily and as furtively as she 
had come. Martin Louvac, when she had departed, 
went into the shop and made a few necessary arrange- 
ments then, leaving his wife behind the counter to attend 
to business, he put on his coat, went out of the kitchen 
door, and traversing half the city, entered a tavern or 
inn which was called “The Golden Fleece,” and which 
was kept by one Pierre Mouchard, a tavern where, not- 
withstanding its suggestive name, the food and lodging 
were reasonably good and the pricesi not unreasonably 
excessive. 

The innkeeper, Pierre Mouchard, and the baker, 
Martin Louvac, had married sisters. Monsieur Mou- 
chard’s wife, however, was long since dead, and he kept 
the tavern with the aid of his niece, Nicolette or Col- 
ette Mouchard, a pretty girl of twenty-five, brown- 
haired and blue-eyed, being assisted also by an appren- 
tice, or barkeeper, named Francois and by two serving 
women. It is to be noted that both Mouchard and 
Louvac were in a measure protected in their business 
by the German authorities, on account of the amuse- 
ment and accommodation afforded the younger officers 
of the German corps by the inn and the bake shop. 
Private soldiers or, gemeine soldaten, were not allowed 
in either place if officers were present. If privates were 
sitting in the tavern, or bake shop and an officer should 
enter, they had to vacate the premises instanter. 


32 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


Pierre Mouchard was short and stout, being truly 
the very antithesis of his brother-in-law, Martin Lou- 
vac. Red cheeks, a laughing eye, a wide, good-natured 
mouth and a double chin gave him a look of joviality 
and good nature. He could be, though, as remorseless 
as fate, as swift and merciless as the avenging angel, 
when it was necessary. Though engaged in humble 
occupations, and though complacently serving the 
whims of the enemies of their country, both of these 
men were staunch patriots and would have shed the 
last drop of blood for their beloved France. They were 
not at the front, fighting with their brethren, but per- 
haps they were doing more for France in keeping to 
their humble trade and stopping where they were. 

Father Louvac called his brother-in-law to one side, 
and gave him the instructions which he had received 
from Jaqueline. 

“I will be there to the dot,” said Pierre Mouchard. 

At eleven o’clock, Louvac, Mouchard and Mou- 
chard’s helper, Francois, met at the postern gate of the 
Chateau Keranec. Louvac carried an unlighted lan- 
tern. They knocked at the solid wooden gate in the 
stone wall, and it was almost immediately opened by 
Jaqueline who was awaiting them, the three men en- 
tered upon' the grounds, and Jaqueline closed and locked 
the gate. 

“You are on time,” said she, gayly, but in a low 
tone. “Of course, though, I knew that you would be. 
We must get to work at once, as it will take several 


OUTWITTING THE BOCHE 


33 


hours to finish. What a pity that we must go to all 
this labor in order to satisfy the thirsts of those German 
swine! I am sure, however, that the result will be of 
great advantage to our beloved France.” 

“I pray to le bon Dieu that it chokes ’em,” said 
Papa Louvac, fervently. 

“It will be more likely to give ’em the tremens,” 
added Mouchard. “Believing that, I shall go to work 
with all the good will in the world.” 

Jaqueline now left the three men, went over to a 
point midway of the wall on the side of the grounds 
towards the city wall, knelt upon the ground, pushed 
away the thick branches of a shrub, and felt along at 
the bottom of the wall. Presently, she found a small 
recess in the mason work, on a level with the top of the 
earth, a recess about eight inches wide, high and deep. 
Pulling out the dead leaves which had accumulated in 
the recess, she uncovered a water pipe in which was a 
shut off lever. With much pains and using all her 
strength, she brought the lever lengthway of the pipe, 
thus opening the pipe. Then she returned to the three 
men who were standing about the well, leaning upon 
the curb and looking down toward the water. 

“It’s running out fast,” exclaimed Mouchard, “I 
can hear it.” 

“It takes a quarter hour for the well to empty itself,” 
said Papa Louvac, “and a half hour to fill again. I 
know because I was one of those who helped Count 
Victor when he constructed the well and the hidden 

3 


34 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


chamber. The water runs into a long abandoned sewer 
which lies under the lane between the Keranec wall and 
the city wall. This sewer takes a turn just where our 
water pipe enters it, goes under the city wall, and 
debouches half way down the bluff. The sewer used to 
discharge into the river. There is a man hole, covered 
by an iron trap, to this old sewer in the lane next the 
city wall. One may get down into the sewer, follow it 
to its end, and come out where it debouches upon the 
river side. No easier way could be invented for leaving 
the city, or coming into it unobserved by these German 
swine. It is hard though, to find the opening half way 
down the steep bank on the river side. It is covered by 
bushes and obstructed by rocks. One gets to know it 
however.” 


CHAPTER III 
The Wines of Keranec 

“The water has all gone out,” at length declared 
Mouchard. “I can hear it running no longer. Who 
will go down the well? I am ready for one.” 

“N'o,” said Papa Louvac. “You are too fat, and 
would stick fast half way down. I will go myself. I 
ami long and lanky and will have no trouble at all. Be- 
sides I know all about the well, the door and the stairs, 
having helped with them. Give me the lantern and 
down I’ll go.” 

“First,” interposed Jaqueline, “we must have a good 
look around the place to see that none of Stollberg’s spies 
are watching us. The old butcher was given to under- 
stand that we wouldn’t operate until Thursday night. 
Probably, therefore, he has taken no precautions for 
tonight. It will be well though, to be on our guard 
against him.” 

The three men and the girl separated, and made the 
round of the grounds. They scanned closely all possible 
hiding places among the shrubs, trees and outbuildings, 
the whole top of the chateau wall and the city wall be- 
yond, but could find no signs of watchers. 

Papa Louvac then swung himself over the curb of 

35 


36 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRA1 


the well and commenced his descent, lighting his lan- 
tern only when he had got several feet below the top of 
the curb, so that the lantern glow might not be seen by 
any chance observers. Bracing himself against the 
sides of the well and resting his feet upon projecting 
stones, he made easy work of it. 

When he stood upon the bottom, he turned to that 
side of the well opposite the water outlet, and found an 
iron door which was covered with protuberances to 
represent the stones of the wall itself. Pushing down 
a lever, he grasped a handle, and using all his strength 
which was tremendous, he pulled the rusty door open. 
This disclosed a shaft cut in the solid rock, a shaft 
about six feet high and three feet wide which went up- 
ward away from the well at an angle of forty-five de- 
grees, and which was provided with steps, also cut out 
of the rock. Ascending the shaft some ten feet or more, 
he came to a platform which widened out to a square, 
level chamber, about twelve feet across and ten feet 
high. The floor of the chamber was a few inches above 
the top of the water, when the water was at its usual 
level, and the roof of the chamber was all of three feet 
below the level of the ground. In this chamber, stacked 
symmetrically, lay the one hundred ninety-two cases 
of Keranec wine. There were eight layers of the 
boxes, each layer contained twenty-four boxes, the 
boxes measured two feet in length, one and a half feet 
in width and fourteen inches in height, consequently, 
the pile of cases was nine feet long, eight feet wide 
and something over nine feet high. 


THE WINES OF KERANEC 


37 


Papa Louvac lifted a case from the stack, carried it 
down the shaft and put it into the big well bucket which 
had been lowered to the bottom, Mouchard turned the 
crank of the well windlass and brought the box to the 
top of the curb, Francois, Mouchard’s man, took the 
case and, guided by Jaqueline, carried it up the graveled 
path, down the cellar steps into the cellar, and laid it 
upon the floor of the wine cellar. The disposition of 
each case required about three minutes; in something 
over four hours they had brought up from the well and 
stored in the cellar ninety-six cases, and Jaqueline 
ordered the work stopped. Papa Louvac closed and 
fastened the iron door at the foot of the shaft, and 
stepping into the bucket himself, was drawn to the top 
of the well by the combined efforts of Mouchard and 
Frangois. Jaqueline thanked the three men warmly, 
kissed Papa Louvac upon both cheeks, and letting them 
out of the small door into the lane, closed and bolted the 
door. 

Jaqueline now went to the small recess in the garden 
wall where she had found the water pipe and shut the 
stop cock, then she went into the cellar of the chateau 
and having found in one corner the necessary pipe, 
turned on the water which would again fill the well. 
After waiting until the well was filled to its usual 
height she shut the water off and went to bed. She was 
a very tired girl, but her thoughts were exceedingly 
pleasant. She was smiling happily, and there was a 
dancing light in her eyes, as if she looked forward to 
some very amusing and profitable developments. 


38 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


Upon Friday morning General Baron Hugo von 
Stollberg again stood at the bedside of the old Countess, 
Mathilde de Keranec. 

“ Well, Madam,” said he, ponderously, “the time is 
up, and I do not see that you have produced the goods. 
You were to bring the wine to light last night, but I am 
told that you did nothing whatever in that direction.” 

“You mean that your spies saw and heard nothing, 
though you had a dozen of them hanging about the 
place all night.” 

“I will own that some of my people kept an eye 
upon the chateau at different times during the night. 
It was a necessary precaution because I feared that you 
might try to make away with the wine altogether. The 
fact remains that you haven’t produced the goods, that 
you have broken your promise.” 

“That is not true, General. I have kept my promise 
and the ninety-six cases have been brought from their 
hiding place. I fooled you as I have done before and 
as I will do again. I had the wine brought out upon 
Tuesday night, because I knew that, on the night just 
passed, contrary to your agreement, you would have 
your spies all over the place. I had my wheel chair 
taken to the window, and their maneuvers gave me 
iffuch amusement.” 

“The wine has then been brought out into the open? 
I can scarce believe it Where is it, then?” 

“In the wine vaults, of course. Where should it 
be?” 


THE WINES OF KERANEC 


39 


The General started in haste for the door but the 
Countess called him back. 

“ Before you go, General, I want to know when you 
are going to attend to the several little matters about 
which I spoke to you. The protection and safe conduct 
cards for myself and my three servants I shall want by 
this afternoon at the latest. I shall require a close, high 
board fence built a short distance back of your kitchen 
and scullery, so that neither your servants nor anyone 
else will be able to enter the grounds in the rear of the 
chateau. Also I shall want the doors and passages lead- 
ing from this wing to the main part of the building 
boarded up before you occupy the chateau. There is 
one other matter too. You have caused havoc through- 
out the chateau. You have demolished a considerable 
part of the wood work and the walls, and you have 
taken a lot of stones from the cellar walls and floors. 
This must be repaired without delay.” 

“If the wine is in the cellar as agreed,” shouted the 
General, as he rushed from the room, “I will have every- 
thing attended to immediately.” 

When hei was half way down the stairs, a thin, shrill 
dribble of laughter came from the old lady’s room, and 
he used language which is never heard in polite society. 

General Stollberg found his aides awaiting him in 
the salon, and the three men dived into the cellar as if 
the devil were after them. When they found the neatly 
stacked pile of wine cases upon the floor of the wine 
vault, when they had counted them carefully, and when 


40 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


they had opened a case of Cliquot, 1890, to see if the 
cases really contained the costly vintages whose names 
were stenciled upon the boxes, and when they had satis- 
fied themselves that they did, they shook hands all 
around, and having procured glasses, they knocked the 
neck from one of the bottles, and drank the health of 
the Kaiser. 

On Monday of the following week, the wood and 
stone work of the chateau had been adequately repaired, 
a high board fence had been built a short way back of 
the main part of the building, thus shutting off access 
to the grounds in the rear, all doors and passages lead- 
ing from the main structure to the right wing had been 
boarded up, the protection cards had been delivered to 
the Countess, and General Stollberg with his staff, his 
orderlies and his servants had moved into the chateau. 

The General had appropriated the great salon for 
his office and general place of business, and was sitting 
at the head of the long oak table which stood in the 
center of the salon. Hauptman Zellner was sitting at 
the table with him. 

“Where is Stirpitz ?” presently asked the General, 
“I want him to take the car and go to the Hotel de 
Ville about that munition matter.” 

“He went upstairs about fifteen minutes ago. I 
haven't seen him come down. He must be up there 
now.” 

The General looked about for an orderly, but there 
was none present. 


THE WINES OF KERANEC 


41 


“I wish you would go up and bring him down. He 
should be here. He knows that I wanted him to go on 
this business.” 

Hauptman Zellner saluted, and started upon his er- 
rand. When he had reached the second story, and was 
passing along a corridor toward Stirpitz’s room, he 
came to an open door which lead into a suite of three 
rooms which were occupied by the General and which 
faced the rear grounds of the chateau. The chamber of 
the open door was the General's lounging room, or par- 
lor and had a French window which led to a small bal- 
cony overlooking the grounds. The French window 
was open, and Stirpitz was crouched down upon the 
floor of the balcony with his arms and chin upon the 
balustrade, and seemed to be gazing intently at some- 
thing upon the ground to the rear of the forbidden 
right wing of the chateau. Zellner paused for a mo- 
ment in astonishment, then he called to Stirpitz and 
delivered his message. Stirpitz sprang up and came 
through the room into the corridor, having the appear- 
ance in his face and manner of a guilty school boy. 

Zellner made some excuse for not accompanying 
his fellow officer down stairs, and went off in the direc- 
tion of his own room. When, however, he was sure 
that Stirpitz was out of sight and hearing, filled with 
curiosity, he returned to the General’s room and went 
through the French window and out upon the balcony. 
What he saw caused him at once to kneel behind the 
balustrade and peer intently down into the grounds be- 


42 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


hind the right wing of the chateau, with his eyes just 
above the railing. 

After Stirpitz had taken the car and gone to the 
Hotel de Ville, General von Stollberg wanted something 
else done and looked about for Zellner. Zellner wasn’t 
in evidence. He waited all of ten minutes, chafing 
savagely. He rang his electric bell for an orderly. He 
shouted loudly, but all to no effect. His orderlies were 
everywhere but where they should have been. Finally 
he arose, and swearing as only a German officer can 
swear, stamped noisily upstairs to find the recreant 
Zellner. When he came to the open door of his parlor, 
he looked in and perceived Zellner kneeling upon the 
balcony, exactly as Stirpitz had been found by Zellner. 

For a m’oment he paused in wonderment, and was 
about to break out into a string of profanity, but he 
thought better of it, and with difficulty curbing himself, 
turned and stole softly down stairs to the salon. For- 
tunately, just at that moment, an orderly came into the 
apartment, and the General sent him at once upstairs to 
summon the mysteriously acting Zellner. When Zellner 
came down, wearing upon his face a too patent look of 
innocence, the General sent him off into the town upon 
a hastily invented errand, and prepared to investigate 
the erratic actions of his two subordinates. When he 
had gone to his room, closed and locked the door, and 
had passed out of the French window upon the balcony, 
the mystery was at once unraveled, he saw what it was 
that had caused the peculiar maneuvers of Zellner and 


THE WINES OF KERANEC 


43 


Stirpitz and he wondered no longer that they had de- 
layed so long upon the balcony. 

The main body of the chateau projected into the 
rear grounds at least twenty feet further than the back 
wall of the right wing, so that there was a space in size 
about twenty feet by thirty back of the right wing which 
was surrounded on three sides by the outside garden 
wall, the back wall of the wing and the return wall of 
the main building. There were no windows in this re- 
turn wall, and there was a profuse growth of trees and 
shrubs back of this walled in space, so that this small 
enclosed square of turf became a cozy and secluded 
nook, shut off from the world and safe from prying 
eyes. It was not absolutely safe from prying eyes be- 
cause of the balcony in the back wall of the main part 
of the chateau. This balcony projected out about four 
feet from the wall, and a person by going to the extreme 
edge of it against the rail might peer around the corner 
and come at the secrets of this shaded sanctuary. Few 
of the inhabitants of the chateau, however, had ever 
thought of this. 

Upon a small, cane-seated chair in the middle of 
this space sat the girl, Jaqueline. She had washed her 
hair and was drying it in the sun, as ladies both of high 
and low degree are wont to do. She wore for an upper 
garment a sleeveless muslin dressing sack cut very low 
both in the back and front, so that the snowy white of 
her round, slender arms, of her straight young back, 
her smooth throat and the beginning of those mysterious 


44 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


curves below it was much in evidence. She was sitting 
with her back toward the balcony, and as she ran her 
hands through the mass of her lustrous hair, now bring- 
ing it in front of her and now throwing it back upon 
her shapely neck, she ever and anon gave side glimpses 
of her pretty face. The General had knelt upon the 
floor of the balcony, even as Zellner and Stirpitz, to 
avoid the chance of discovery, his arms were upon the 
balustrade, and) his satyr-like face rose above the rail. 
He was gloating abominably upon the girl’s loveliness. 

Full ten minutes passed and still he gazed, sensual, 
beastly, covetous. His huge weight bore cruelly upon 
his knees, and he twisted about in order to ease the 
pain of it. As he did so, his boots scraped upon the 
balcony floor with a loud and rasping noise. Jaqueline 
turned about in her chair, gave one look at the red and 
brutal face which was perched upon the rail of the bal- 
cony like a gargoyle, gave a cry of fear and shame, and 
leaping to her feet, flew from the spot with the swift- 
ness of the wind. 

General von Stollberg arose creaking from his 
knees, and cursed his own clumsiness which had be- 
trayed him and caused him to lose the satisfaction of 
further contemplation of that beautiful and scantily 
clothed nymph. From that time forth the image of the 
girl’s charms persisted in his brain, and his mind was 
ever busy with unworthy projects. 

Several times again that day he went out upon the 
balcony and stretched his neck to peer around the corner 


THE WINES OF KERANEC 


45 


of the wall into that secluded square of forbidden terri- 
tory, but it was useless, the lovely and illusive nymph 
for whose appearance he so eagerly watched never once 
appeared. On Tuesday morning, while he was at his 
post of observation, a young boy came from the right 
wing of the chateau, went down toward the back garden 
wall and disappeared among the shrubbery. He was a 
good looking boy of fifteen years or so, wore a gray 
worsted jacket, knee breeches, a cloth cap pulled well 
down to his ears and the nape of his neck and carried 
himself with a sprightly, stout and confident manner. 
Two hours or so later the boy came back through the 
grounds and entered the house. 

“That’s the boy, Jean, whom the old woman spoke 
about,” said the General to himself. “It would further 
my intentions to get rid of him, and I’d do it, if it were 
possible without implicating myself. Perhaps I can 
arrange with Zellner to manage some convenient acci- 
dent in some remote part of the town, or outside of the 
town, an accident the nature of which would absolve me 
from any suspicions in the mind of the old cat next 
door. iGod helping me, I’ll try it.” 

That night the General gave a small banquet in the 
grand salon of the chateau, aj banquet to celebrate his 
acquisition of the Keranec wine collection. He had but 
four guests, namely — Colonel Otto von der Golz of the 
Brandenburg guards, Major Steinmetz of the Uhlans, 
Captain Zellner and Lieutenant Stirpitz. The girl, 
Jaqueline, gazing from the half open slats of a front 


46 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


room window, at about seven o’clock in the evening, 
saw the Colonel, the Major, the Captain and the Lieu- 
tenant drive up to the door of the chateau in General 
Stollberg’s big touring car, and at once proceeded, 
calmly and methodically, to execute a mysterious pro- 
ject which for several days she had planned and pro- 
vided for. 

There was a passage or hallway upon the second 
floor which formerly led into the main part of the build- 
ing, but which was now boarded up at a point between 
the main structure and the wing. Jaqueline went along 
this passage until she cam)e to the end of it, and then 
turned into a chamber at the right. Going to the wains- 
cotted wall, she pressed her finger upon a certain spot 
of the moulding. At once, a panel of the wood-work 
two feet wide and four feet high, slid back, and she 
found herself looking into the balcony of bookcases 
which adorned one complete side of the great salon. 
The General and his guests were already gathered about 
the big oaken table, wine glasses were already filled and 
in circulation, and the room rang with sounds of con- 
viviality and mirth. 

Jaqueline got upon her hands and knees and crept 
along the balcony behind the tiers of bookcases until she 
reached a point opposite the guest table. Then, with 
her stomach upon the floor, she pulled herself forward 
to the balustrade, pressed her face against the closely set 
banisters and listened with all her might. 

It was shortly evident that the General’s banquet 


THE WINES OF KERANEC 


47 


was devised more for drinking than for eating. The 
viands were few and were soon disposed of, but the 
beverages were of many kinds and in large quantities. 
They commenced with Sauterne, went from Sauterne to 
Claret, from Claret to Burgundy and from Burgundy 
to Champagne. 

“This wine,” said Colonel Von der Golz, as he held 
aloft a glass of 1890 Chateau Yquem, so that the light 
from the electrolier hanging over thd table brought forth 
all its golden fire, “is absolutely the most exquisite, the 
most delicate, the most heavenly liquid which I have 
tasted during the course of my existence.'* 

“It should be,” grunted General Stollberg, “it has 
cost me enough.” 

“But you told me that you were going to appropri- 
ate the contents of the Keranec wine cellars as the spoils 
of war.” 

“I did mean to,” answered the General, testily. 
“But that old she devil, the Countess of Keranec, who 
was here in the chateau, forestalled me. The old she 
fox was too crafty. She had the wine hidden so cun- 
ningly that I couldn’t find it, though we took tw^o days 
at it, and ripped up the house and grounds thoroughly. 
You wouldn’t think that she could hide it so effectually, 
but she did. I had to make all sorts of concessions and 
agreements before she would unearth it. I had to give 
her protection and safe conduct cards for herself and 
three servants, I had to give her the sole use of the 
right wing of the chateau and of the grounds back of it. 


48 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


I had to agree to a lot of other things. I would dearly 
have liked to strangle the old witch, but I couldn't do it. 
Oh, if I could only wring her neck! Perhaps, though, 
I may yet be able to do it. After she had me tied up 
safely and securely, she produced the wine, as if by a 
miracle, between two days.” 

“I don’t see what you are growling about, General. 
Now that you have the wine, why don’t you repudiate 
your agreement and wring the old cat’s neck?” 

“That’s just it, I meant to do so, but I can’t. She 
informed me that there were altogether one hundred and 
ninety-two cases. She has only produced half of it. 
The other half she is holding back to insure my good 
behavior. I am bound hand and foot. To drink the 
very last bottle of that hundred and ninety-two cases, I 
would forfeit my hopes of salvation. God helping me, 
I will do it yet.” 

“Here’s hoping that you will, General,” said Major 
Steinmetz, holding up' his glass. 

“We must not forget our usual toast,” remarked the 
Colonel after Steinmetz ’s toast had been disposed of. 
“Gott strafe die Englander.” 

“Say rather Gott strafe die Americaner,” cor- 
rected Captain Zellner. “They claim to have a million 
men in France.” 

“It is a lie,” declared Stirpitz, heatedly, “they may 
have a quarter of that, but it isn’t likely. They haven’t 
a million and they never will have a million. Our unter 
see boote will attend to that. Suppose they have a 


THE WINES OF KERANEC 


49 


million just for the argument? Pouf, what do they 
amount to ? What are they but a badly organized mob, 
an aggregation of half-trained louts ?” 

“Right you are,” corroborated Colonel Von der 
Golz, “it would be great amusement to see them go up 
against a regiment of Brandenburgers. They would 
turn about and run like a lot of scared rabbits.” 

“Or a squadron of my Uhlans,” supplemented 
Major Steinmetz. “It would be like chasing chickens. 
How they would scurry away.” 

“But they haven’t done so yet?” objected Zellner. 

“And why?” asked Stirpitz. “Because, up to the 
present time, they have only attacked points which were 
purposely left very sparsely guarded. Because they 
have encountered so far only regiments composed of our 
youths of 1919 and 1920. Just you wait until they 
meet our regulars, our shock troops, and you will see 
them scampering as if the devil himself were after 
them.” 

Three hours had passed and Jaqueline, patient and 
indefatigable, waited and waited for the talk to take 
that direction which she so ardently desired. A score of 
empty bottles upon the table and the sideboard spoke 
eloquently of the capacity of the General and his guests. 
The company was by turns hilarious and solemn, affec- 
tionate and scornful, confidential and reticent. The time 
had come for which Jaqueline had so long waited. The 
time had come when the wine was in and the wit was 
out. 

4 


50 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Now tell us please, dear General,” implored Major 
Steinmetz, “the direction of our next great offensive. You 
are on confidential terms with the high command, Von 
Ludendorf and Hindenburg are your friends, you are a 
favorite even with his Imperial Majesty. You are upon 
the inside and you know everything. Relieve our minds 
then and tell us what we so much wish to know.” 

General Baron Hugo von Stollberg squared his 
shoulders, thrust out his chest and assumed an air of 
condescending importance. 

“It is true, gentlemen,” replied he in a voice which 
was both dignified and sententious, “that I have the 
confidence of the great chieftains whom Major Stein- 
metz has named. It is also true that they have come to 
a decision in the matter which the Major spoke about, 
and that they have informed me of this decision. I 
may even go so far as to say that I had some small part 
in the discussion of it. Though I do not think it wise, 
gentlemen, at the present time, to give you definite and 
exact information upon the subject, I may give you a 
valuable hint which your intelligence will enable you to 
construe satisfactorily. The whole problem is a prob- 
lem of higher mathematics and will be worked out with 
mathematical exactitude. There will be a thrust here 
and a feint there. The enemy will be confused and the 
great offensive will come at a point where he least ex- 
pects it. There were three objectives taken into con- 
sideration — Paris, Amiens and the Channel Ports. If 
we should take the channel ports, there would be no 


THE WINES OF KERANEC 


51 


great material advantage. If the British were shut off 
from Dunkirk, Calais and Boulogne, they still, being 
masters of the seas, could land their troops and supplies 
at Havre or Bordeaux. If we should capture Amiens, 
and thrust a wedge between the British on the one hand 
and the French and Americans on the other, we would 
gain nothing. The British lines of communication to 
England would still be open and their fighting power 
undiminished. The French and Americans also, not 
being dependent upon England, would suffer nothing 
by being thrown upon their own resources. Then, too, 
our advance would form a dangerous salient which 
would be exposed to attack on both sides. The taking 
of Paris, though, would tell a different tale. The moral 
effect of it would be tremendous. Paris is the nerve 
center, the very heart of the French fighting power. 
With the loss of Paris, the whole French resistance 
would collapse like a punctured bubble.” 

“From what you say, General,” said Colonel Von 
der Golz, “I infer that the offensive toward Paris has 
been chosen by the high command.” 

“You have said it,” answered the General, ponder- 
ously. 

The five officers soon began to sing and to tell anec- 
dotes. Jaqueline was shocked by some of the songs, 
but still kept to her post. When, however, General von 
Stollberg, who was a veritable old Silenus when suffi- 
ciently in his cups, began to relate a certain favorite 
story of his, she blushed outrageously and quickly stole 
to the sliding panel, and thence into her room. 


52 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


As she was dropping off into slumber and even after 
she slept a happy smile dimpled her fair cheek. She 
had accomplished her cherished purpose. The wines of 
Keranec had indeed proved efficacious. They had not 
only provided sanctuary and protection for the Coun- 
tess and her household, but they had opened Stollberg’s 
mouth and laid bare the great secret of the German high 
command. 


CHAPTER IV 
Father Max 

On Tuesday morning the rumor of an extraordin- 
ary occurrence went around through the streets of 
Cambrai. During the night a French aeroplane had 
come down in the fields beyond the Scheldt bridge and 
opposite the Scheldt river gate. In addition to the 
highway which stretched along the further bank of 
the river there was another road which led from the 
bridge into the woods, which lay beyond the fields. The 
aeroplane, seemingly undamaged and in perfect work- 
ing order, rested in the pasture to the right of this road, 
at a distance of thirty or forty feet from the forest. It 
was a scout machine built for one man, and had prob- 
ably come down for the lack of petrol, or on account of 
engine trouble. Its pilot, strapped to his seat in the 
fusilage, clothed in leather from head to foot, and with 
a blue bullet hole in the middle of his forehead, was as 
dead as the proverbial mackerel. 

During the morning, people from the city gathered 
upon the small cross road which led into the woods, and 
gazed over into the fields at the aeroplane. They were 
prevented from crossing the hedge and coming close to 
the machine by two soldiers who marched back and 

53 


54 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


forth, one on either side of it. At about ten o’clock a 
crowd of two score people still remained to gaze upon 
the unusual spectacle, and among them, well to the 
front, stood a boy of fifteen and a young French priest 
of thirty. It was the boy Jean whom General Stollberg 
had seen leaving the grounds of the chateau, the boy 
about whom he had such benevolent intentions ; and as 
he has already been described, it will be unnecessary to 
go into further particulars about him. The French 
priest was six feet in height, or nearly so, he was 
clothed in the usual black cassock and shovel hat, and 
carried a heavy cane. He was more slender than stout, 
and the suppleness and grace of his movements gave in- 
dication of a great amount of reserve strength. He was 
clean-shaven and there was now and then a twinkle in 
his gray eyes and a smile at the corners of his mouth 
which suggested a friendly and amicable disposition. 
The boy, Jean, who evidently now saw the priest for 
the first time, ever and anon looked at him covertly 
and with great intentness, as if he were more interested 
in the man than in the airplane. 

“My son,” said the reverend gentleman at last. 
“Why do you gaze at me so steadily and so sharply? 
Why do you seem so interested in me?” 

“I looked at you at first,” replied Jean, “because I 
thought that you were Father Toussaint. When I saw 
that you were not Father Toussaint, I looked you over 
to see why you made me think so much of Father 
Toussaint. You see you are almost as like as two peas, 


FATHER MAX 


55 


you are of the same height, build and color, and you 
wear exactly the same clothes. At the last I looked at 
you because I thought it strange that you should be 
here at all. I know all the clergymen of Cambrai, some 
of them by sight and the most of them to speak with, 
and I came to the conclusion that you were a stranger/’ 

“You are right, my son, I am a stranger. I have 
only arrived this morning, and I haven’t yet even en- 
tered the gates of the town. My name is Maximillian, 
but I am usually called ‘Father Max.’ I am glad to see 
that you are so observant, and that you have the knack 
of reasoning things out in your head. These are ex- 
cellent traits in a boy. Suppose you exert your reason- 
ing faculties upon yonder aeroplane. What is your 
explanation of the matter?” 

“First, I think it awfully queer that the aeroplane 
should come down so cleverly and alight so neatly upon 
its three wheels in the pasture, the pilot being dead.” 

“That’s well thought of, my son. What conclusion 
do you come to about the business ?” 

“I think that the man must have been shot after the 
machine landed.” 

“It does look that way, doesn’t it?” 

“There’s one other explanation, though.” 

“Let me hear it.” 

“The real pilot and owner of the aeroplane may 
have come down uninjured. Then he may have got 
hold of a dead man, dressed him up in his own leather 
suit, and strapped him up there in the seat of the car. 


56 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


Of course, though, that idea is ridiculous.’’ 

“Of course, it’s ridiculous. There would be no 
reason for his doing any such thing, and how could he 
find a dead man lying around so conveniently? What 
are you going to do with that willow cage or crate? 
There doesn’t seem to be anything in it.” 

The priest referred to a cage of closely woven osiers, 
about a foot square and with a handle, which the boy 
carried. 

“I’m going to get a pair of rabbits at a farm house 
about a mile and a half down the road toward Peronne.” 

“So you are going into the rabbit business. If I 
were you I would think twice before doing so. Rab- 
bits eat up a terrible lot of stuff and their keep costs an 
awful pile of money.” 

“How can that be? I shall get small rabbits, and 
two little rabbits surely can’t eat so very much.” 

“You forget that, in the course of a few months, 
instead of two rabbits you will have upon your hands 
several dozens of rabbits. Food must be scarce in 
Cambrai, and it will be scarcer still when you have so 
largely increased the population of the city.” 

Just at that moment a sergeant and two men came 
from the town to relieve the g^uard stationed over the 
aeroplane. When he had done so, and was bringing 
back the two soldiers whom he had relieved, he stopped 
and rudely ordered the crowd to disperse. The people 
who composed it, with the exception of the priest and 
the boy, drifted slowly across the bridge into the city. 


FATHER MAX 


5 7 


Jean went down the main highway, swinging his bas- 
ket, and Father Max wandered up the road in the oppo- 
site direction, tapping the ground with his cane as he 
went. 

When he had gone a quarter mile, he stopped and 
looked back furtively. Then he leaped the hedge, and 
running swiftly across the fields, dived into the woods. 
A half hour later, had the two soldiers guarding the 
aeroplane been sufficiently alert and keen sighted, they 
would have discovered him peering at them from be- 
hind the foliage of the forest not thirty feet away. 
Waiting until the guard on the near side of the aero- 
plane had turned and was walking away, Father Max 
stole swiftly and lightly across the intervening space 
and got within striking distance of the fellow without 
being noticed. The man heard a rustling noise behind 
him and turned about, but he was too late. At that 
moment, Father Max brought the heavy cane down 
upon his skull and the guard fell to the ground without 
uttering a cry. The soldier on the far side of the aero- 
plane, hearing the sound of the blow and of his com- 
rade’s fall, started to run around the front, or propeller 
end of the machine. At the same moment, Father 
Max darted around the rudder of the plane, raced along 
the far side of it, doubled the propeller two seconds 
later than the second guard and came up with him as 
he bent to examine his fellow soldier. Crack went the 
cane again, and the second guard fell across the body 
of the first. 


58 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


Father Max coolly inspected his victims and found 
them breathing though unconscious. He had timed and 
measured his blows to a nicety. They were of the ex- 
act force which would stun without killing, and the 
skill and science of his attack made it seem as if Father 
Max was not without experience in such matters. 

The reverend gentleman now stepped upon one of 
the rubber tired wheels of the machine and from there 
to the top of the lower plane, whence he vaulted lightly 
into the back of the fuselage behind the dead bird man. 
Aeroplanes, evidently, were not a new thing to Father 
Max. Pulling out his pocket knife and opening it, he 
unbuttoned the leather jacket of the corpse, thrust his 
hand into its left flap, as if he knew all about that par- 
ticular coat, slit the lining in a certain spot, and hauled 
forth a well filled and sealed envelope. After he had 
examined the envelope, evidently to see whether it had 
been tampered with, he gave an exclamation of satis- 
faction, leaped from the fuselage to the ground, without 
touching the plane or wheel, and plunged again into 
the woods. 

The twilight had come when he appeared again, and 
this time he was upon the town side of the river, walk- 
ing down toward the Scheldt gate upon a shrub and 
rock lined path which lay between the steep river bluff 
and the walls of the city. How he crossed the river does 
not appear, nor is it of importance. He could have 
comtmandeered a skiff belonging to some farmer, or he 
could have crossed upon the bridge at Noyelles, a small 
village which lay two miles or so above Cambrai. 


FATHER MAX 


59 


When he had got within three or four hundred feet 
of the Scheldt town gate, he perceived two figures 
struggling upon the path a hundred feet ahead of him. 
Hastening his steps, he came upon them, and saw that 
one of them was a burly, typical, boche soldier and the 
other his friend of the morning, the boy Jean. The 
boche seemed to be trying to push the boy over the cliff 
into the river, but he couldn’t do it without going over 
himself, for the boy clung tightly to him with the 
strength of desperation, notwithstanding : the blows 
which were rained upon his head and shoulders. 

Father Max sprang forward, seized the German by 
the collar, and with a jerk which made his teeth rattle, 
hurled him a dozen feet away. 

“Verdamter Kriechender Prediger!” yelled the 
German, (in English, you damned sneaking priest), 
‘Til get you for that.” 

He came at Father Max with his arms swinging like 
the fans of a windmill, but was met by a neat uppercut 
to the side of the jaw which sent him sprawling. 

He got up in a moment, and with the ferocity of a 
wild beast, plucked a long knife from his belt, a wide 
bladed knife with a guard, such as certain German regi- 
ments use for trench fighting and for the dispatching of 
wounded enemies, rushed toward Father Max, and 
struck. 

“You would, would you?” asked Father Max, 
pleasantly, as he skillfully and coolly side-stepped. 
“Take that, then, you swine.” 


60 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


While yet speaking, the young clergyman brought 
his thick buckthorn cane clown upon the German’s 
head, and the man dropped like a steer struck with a 
sledge. Father Max this time had not tempered his 
blow, and the German’s skull was crushed as if it were 
an egg shell. 

“Oh, you’ve killed him,” cried Jean, horror stricken. 

“It appears so,” answered Father Max, calmly, as 
he inspected his somewhat damaged cane. “But why 
should we worry? He was a mad dog and it just had 
to be done.” 

“I was not worrying about your killing him,” pro- 
tested Jean. “I was worrying about what would hap- 
pen to you if they found it out. It’s death to kill or 
even to strike a German soldier. If they find it out, 
they’ll stand you against a wall in front of a firing 
squad. I wouldn’t like that after what you’ve done for 
me.” 

“That’s easily prevented, my son,” said Father Max. 

He approached the body of the boche, gave it sev- 
eral powerful thrusts with his boot, and sent it hurtling 
over the cliff. They heard it strike against several pro- 
jecting rocks on the way down and plunge into the deep 
and swiftly mloving water of the Scheldt. 

“What was he trying to do to you ?” asked the cler- 
gyman. “How did he come to attack you ?” 

“I met him as I was coming up here from the 
town gate. He jostled against me and said that I had 
pushed him. Then he swore at me, caught hold of me 
and tried to throw me over the bluff.” 


FATHER MAX 


61 


“That looks queer. Had he anything against you ?” 

“Nothing at all. I never saw him until today. I saw 
him twice this morning in the streets of Cambrai, 
he was also standing in the crowd afterward when we 
were looking at the aeroplane. He was quite near us. 
I think now that he must have been following me.” 

“It is strange that he should do so. We must look 
for the reason for it. What is your name, my son, are 
you employed anywhere and where do you live?” 

“My name is Jean Courcel. I am in the employ of 
the Countess Mathilde de Keranec, an old invalid lady 
of seventy, and I live with her in a wing of the Keranec 
Chateau, which is on your right hand, just after you 
enter the Scheldt River gate.” 

“You say that you live with the Countess in the 
wing of the chateau. Why do you not occupy the whole 
of it?” 

“The rest of the mansion was taken over by the 
Germans and is occupied as corps headquarters and as a 
residence by General von Stollberg, the commander of 
the German forces in Cambrai and this vicinity. He 
would have put the Countess out of the chateau alto- 
gether, but she held the whip hand, in certain matters, 
so that he was forced to make concessions. He is a per- 
fectly horrid old man and I hate him.” 

“As you hate him he probably hates you. How 
many beside you are in the Countess’ household?” 

“There is only Jaqueline, the maid, and old Rachael 
Prevost, the housekeeper and cook.” 

“Is Jaqueline a pretty girl?” 


62 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Some people might think so, but what has that to 
do with it?” 

“It may have something to do with the question, 
and it may not. I was just thinking, that’s all. I am 
sure of one thing. If Jaqueline is as good looking as 
you, she must be quite a handsome girl.” 

The boy’s cheek colored at this flattery, and he 
turned away his face to hide it. 

“I see, my son, that you are a modest lad, one might 
even call you bashful. These, however, are good traits 
in your character, and I hope that you will preserve 
them. I was wondering why it was that such a beauti- 
ful girl as Jaqueline should have escaped uninjured for 
all these years of war, exposed, as she must have been 
at all times to the hideous attacks of these German 
beasts.” 

“I didn't say that she was beautiful. Besides, she 
has always kept herself under cover. She goes out 
very seldom, and then only at night, and for very short 
distances.” 

“When she leaves the chateau, does she leave by the 
front entrance?” 

“No, we all go through the grounds in the rear of 
the house, and let ourselves out of a small door in the 
garden wall. We have the exclusive use of the grounds, 
and there is a fence put up to keep the General’s people 
out of it.” 

“But the General and his officers can surely look out 
of their back windows and watch you as you are passing 


FATHER MAX 


63 


through the grounds. Do you know whether they have 
ever seen Jaqueline?” 

“Yes/’ answered Jean, after a moment’s hesitancy. 
“I think that General von Stollberg saw her once. She 
was sitting upon the lawn just back of our part of the 
chateau. She had swashed her hair, and was drying it 
in the sun. She looked up and caught him staring at 
her. She was dreadfully frightened. She never goes 
out of the house any more in the day time.” 

“Ah, that explains, perhaps, why Fritz, our deceased 
friend, was following you. It is only a theory, of course, 
but it has the essence of probability. General von Stoll- 
berg, who, without doubt, is a sensual old brute like all 
the rest of them, gets a glimpse of a very beautiful 
young girl, in a place where he never supposed there 
was one. The girl is en deshabille, and her charms are 
amply revealed. The old Satyr’s passions are aroused, 
and he plans to kidnap her. For some reason or an- 
other, you are in his path, and he sends one of his boche 
underlings after you to put you out of the way. What 
do you think of my theory? If you are not satisfied 
with it, we will try and evolve another.” 

“I think that your whole idea is ridiculous. It 
doesn’t seem probable at all, and I don’t believe a par- 
ticle of it. Where did you get the idea that Jaqueline 
was so very beautiful? I didn’t tell you that she was 
even pretty. Besides, I don’t remember saying that she 
was en deshabille.” 

“My son, these details are immaterial. You are 


64 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


confident that this man was following you. There was 
some urgent reason for it, and we must get at that 
reason. The best way to solve a mystery like this is 
to theorize about it, now in one direction and now in 
another. My theory seems good to me, and I shall hold 
to it, until I find that I am mistaken.” 

Jean now went a few steps away and picked up the 
willow cage or crate which he had dropped when at- 
tacked by the boche. 

“I see,” said Father Max, “that you have secured 
the rabbits that you were going for. At least something 
alive is moving about in the cage.” 

“Those aren’t rabbits, Father Max, they are doves. 
I minded what you said about the productivity of rab- 
bits and the great expense of keeping them, and I 
bought a pair of doves instead.” 

“That was a wise thing to do, my son. Doves fly 
away during the day and pick up most of their living 
in the streets or fields. It is only necessary to give 
them a few kernels of corn or grains of rice once in a 
while. I am glad to see, Jean, that you have a liking 
for small animals and birds. Most boys are cruel to 
animals, chiefly, because they know no better. They 
have no realization of the pain and suffering which they 
inflict. These dumb creatures are naturally tame and 
friendly. They would always be so if we were kind and 
gentle with them. God has given these birds, dogs, cats 
and squirrels, and all the rest of our two-footed and 
four-footed friends into our charge. They are our 


FATHER MAX 


65 


wards, our dependents and our pensioners, and we must 
treat them with gentle kindness and loving care, for 
God will surely ask us for an accounting of our guar- 
dianship. Well, well, we must be going. It’s half past 
nine and we mustn’t stay here all night.” 

“I would like to ask where you intend to go, Father 
Max.” 

“I was going into the town, of course. I intended 
to find some modest inn where I could put up for a few 
days.” 

“Have you the necessary card?” 

“I haven’t any card. What sort of a card do you 
mean ?” 

“A safe conduct card, or pass. Without it, you 
can’t get through the gates. There are sentries posted 
there night and day, and no one is admitted without a 
card. Besides that, you may be arrested, when they 
find that you haven’t one. It is queer that you don’t 
know about it. Where did you come from, anyway, 
that you are ignorant of the regulations ?” 

“I came from over there,” answered Father Max, 
with a comprehensive and vague sweep of the hand. 
“From present appearances, it looks as if I would have 
to sleep in the open. My bed shall be the grass, and 
the ceiling of my room the stars. I think that I will 
put up in the woods across the river.” 

“You needn’t do that, Father. I have a way of 
getting into the city without passing through the gates. 
I was about to use it when I met the boche.” 

5 


66 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“My son, you are truly a friend in need and a 
friend indeed. I little thought when I cracked your 
foul adversary over the head that you would so soon 
repay me for the infinitesimal trouble which I took. 
From what you have just said, I judge that your hidden 
way of entering the city is near at hand. Pray, lead me 
to it.” 

Jean went a short distance along the path which, at 
this point, lay almost at the edge of the bluff. Present- 
ly, he came to a spot where the bank was less steep, and 
began to let himself down the declivity by holding to 
bushes and projecting rocks, being followed closely by 
the clergyman. When he had gone down twenty feet 
or so, he came to a clump of shrubbery, and parting the 
branches, he showed his companion the opening of a 
tunnel, about five feet high and three feet wide, a tunnel 
arched with stone. 

“It’s the mouth of an old sewer, long unused,” ex- 
plained he. “The sewer runs under the city wall, and 
has a man hole just inside of the wall, at one side of a 
narrow lane. There’s an iron trap to the man hole, we 
lift it up, crawl through, and find ourselves inside of 
the town. Wait a moment, and I’ll light a wax vesper. 
It’s so dark in there that we couldn’t see without.” 

Jean lighted his match, and (Stepped into the open- 
ing, being followed closely by Father Max. There was 
a narrow channel, water worn, in the middle of the 
floor, in which trickled a small rivulet of water, a dry 


FATHER MAX 


67 


ledge on each side of it formed an excellent foot path. 
After they had followed the sewer for a distance of a 
few rods the boy stopped. 

“There’s the trap right overhead,” said he. 


CHAPTER V 
Colette, the Incorrigible 

Father Max put both hands to the iron trap, and 
lifted it easily. Springing up, he crawled through the 
opening, then, reaching down and taking Jean’s hands, 
he pulled the boy after him. They now found them- 
selves in a narrow street with the city wall upon one 
side of them and the Keranec garden wall on the other. 

“That is the chateau Keranec where I live,” said 
Jean, pointing to the building. “The wing at this 
end is the part we occupy. The main body of the 
chateau and the wing beyond are the headquarters 
of General Stollberg. I see that his windows are 
pretty well lighted up. Probably they are having 
their usual drinking bout. I would take you into the 
chateau and give you shelter for the night, but I am 
afraid it would disturb Grandma Keranec. The poor 
old lady is troubled with insomnia and, if she once 
wakes up, she lies awake for the rest of the night.” 

“I wouldn’t think of disturbing the poor old soul,” 
declared Father Max. “Far be it from me to intrude 
upon her premises at this hour of the night. As I said 
before, I intend to seek out some modest hotel in some 
retired byway of the town where I may rest for a few 

68 


COLETTE, THE INCORRIGIBLE 


69 


days. The more secluded the place the better. I have 
a certain mission to perform, and I do not wish to at- 
tract the attention of the German authorities.” 

“I know just the place for you,” exclaimed the 
boy, “it's a small, home-like tavern called 'The Golden 
Fleece/ it is kept by a Frenchman named Mouchard, it 
is well to the other side of the town and stands in an 
out of the way and little frequented street. In fact, you 
couldn’t find it, if you didn’t know just where it was. 
I will take you there.” 

“My son, you have shown yourself very obliging, 
and I hate to put you to further trouble. Besides, you 
will have to come home alone, it will be a long way for 
you to walk, and I fear for your safety.” 

“I don’t intend to come home. I shall stay the 
night with Monsieur Mouchard. He and I are old 
friends, and he will be delighted to put me up. Upon 
my recommendation, too, he will give you the best of 
everything, and will treat you like a brother. Pierre 
Mouchard is a jolly, good-natured man and the best of 
landlords. Above all, he is a French patriot. He keeps 
his mouth shut and seems to care for nothing but his 
business. Nevertheless, there is not a moment in the 
day when he is not working and planning for our be- 
loved France. It is because I am certain that you are 
equally interested in our cause that I am telling you 
this, and that I am taking you to Pierre Mouchard.” 

“My son, you are right. My thoughts are all for 
France, and I long for the time to come when we shall 


70 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


knock the infernal insides out of those beastly Huns. 
1 am ashamed to say that, notwithstanding my peace- 
ful calling, I have already accounted for a few of them 
myself.” 

“I can bear witness to that. The fact is, that I 
know more about you than you are aware of. I have 
seen you four times today, once this morning when we 
were looking at the aeroplane, once tonight and twice 
besides.” 

“I don’t recollect meeting you except in the crowd 
this morning and again tonight. What were the other 
two occasions ?” 

“I won’t tell you,” answered the boy, laughing. 
“You must think it out for yourself. I will say, 
though, that I learned nothing to your discredit. On 
the contrary, what I saw made me think a whole lot 
more of you. Come on, we must be going, Monsieur 
Mouchard shuts up at eleven, and it is now after ten.” 

When they had come around into the small lane 
which ran back of the Keranec grounds, Jean stopped in 
front of the small door in the garden wall and, taking 
a key from his pocket, unlocked it. 

“I want to put my doves inside of the wall,” said he. 

The doves having been put in a place of safety, 
Father Max and Jean now set out for the tavern of 
Pierre Mouchard. 

The boy certainly knew the town of Cambrai as if 
he had made it. Never faltering, never pausing to con- 
sider his route, he led his reverend companion through 


COLETTE, THE INCORRIGIBLE 


71 


a veritable maze of lanes and byways. He went across 
lots and even walked upon the tops of garden walls. 
Going up what appeared a blind alley, they would find 
a narrow passage leading out at right angles from the 
end of it. They evenj dived 'into the cellar of a deserted 
building, and going up stairs to the first story, made 
their exit from ,the other side of the structure. 

“Why did you do that?” asked Father Max. 

“To avoid those drunken soldiers. Didn’t you see 
them? They had just turned the corner of the street 
ahead.” 

After a while they arrived at the inn of the Golden 
Fleece. 

“There are still some German officers in there,” said 
Jean, peering through the windows of the tap room or 
bar. “They will make trouble for us, and we had better 
go to the rear entrance.” 

Jean indicated a narrow passage to one side of the 
inn, which led to a lane back of the building. When 
they had come to the rear door of the tavern, a door 
which opened into the kitchen and scullery, the boy 
paused. 

“I want to tell you something else about the Mou- 
chard family before we enter,” said he. “Monsieur 
Mouchard has a niece, his only relative, whose name is 
Nicolette and who is usually called ‘Colette.’ She is a 
pretty girl and she is an awful flirt. Also, she carries 
on with the German officers who frequent the tavern as 
no French girl should. I want to warn you against her, 


72 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


as she will surely set her snares for you the moment she 
sees you. In the encl she will make trouble for you with 
those German friends of hers. A word to the wise that 
is all.” 

“My son,” remarked Father Max, reprovingly. 
“You seem to know an amazing lot about girls in gen- 
eral and about this girl in particular. It isn’t well for 
a boy so young as you to get his head filled with such 
ideas about girls. As for Mademoiselle Colette, I am 
sure that my cloth will amply protect me against her 
wiles.” 

“If you think so, Father Max, you are mistaken. 
If there were no other man around, she would try and 
start a flirtation with the bishop of Cambrai.” 

Jean now led his companion into the kitchen of the 
inn, where a middle aged woman was working over a 
stove, and through the kitchen into the store room or 
serving room, a chamber about twelve feet square, 
which was filled with barrels of wine and shelves of 
bottles, and which had a window looking out upon the 
tap room. At this window stood the inn keeper, Pierre 
Mouchard, his business and present occupation being 
to pass out of the window to Frangois, the waiter, such 
beverages and comestibles as were called for by his 
guests. 

“Monsieur Mouchard,” said Jean. “I have brought 
you a guest. This is Father Max, a stranger in town, 
to whom I have recommended your inn.” 

“Father Max, you are welcome,” replied Pierre 


COLETTE, THE INCORRIGIBLE 


73 


Mouchard. “Since Jean has brought you, you are 
doubly welcome. Now, Jean, my boy, tell me how 
goes it with you, how fares the beautiful Jaqueline and 
my lady, the old Countess.” 

“We carry ourselves very well, I thank you, Mon- 
sieur Mouchard. I have a few words to say to you, 
and we will go into the kitchen, where there is less 
noise. Let Father Max rest here in your chair until 
we return.” 

Pierre Mouchard and the boy went into the kitchen 
and Jean discoursed to the landlord of the inn for five 
minutes, in a very serious and energetic tone. 

“It shall be done exactly as you say,” declared 
Mouchard. 

“Very well. Now see that you take the most ex- 
cellent care of him. I am going to stop with you over 
night, and I will now go to my little hall bed room, if 
it is ready for me.” 

“It is always ready for you. You have but to go 
up there, lock the door and curl yourself up to sleep.” 

Jean now went upstairs to bed, and the landlord 
returned to the store room, where he had left the priest. 

“Father Max,” said Mouchard, “the boy, Jean, has 
told me several things, and I wish to say to you that 
this hotel and all within it are yours. You have but to 
command me in everything you wish. In the first 
place, have you had your supper?” 

“Yes, Monsieur Mouchard. I supped early in the 
evening with a good French farmer and his wife in 


74 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


their cottage which stands by the river just this side of 
Noyelles.” 

“Wouldn’t you like something else? You have but 
to speak, and we will set about serving it.” 

“Many thanks, Monsieur Mouchard, but I couldn’t 
eat a thing.” 

“Then perhaps you would like to go to bed. I have 
a very excellent little room at the top of the house, 
right under the eaves, with a window which looks out 
upon my neighbor’s garden. It is ready for you now, 
if you wish to go up.” 

“You have said it, Monsieur. I have a lot of de- 
ferred sleep coming to me, and I can’t begin upon it 
any too soon. Please lead me to it.” 

Pierre Mouchard went to the serving window and 
called to a handsome girl who was sitting at a table with 
two subordinate German officers. 

“Colette,” said he, “come here, I want you.” 

The girl arose, passed around through the kitchen 
and came into the storeroom. Her face had a look of 
angry impatience which quickly gave way to a bewitch- 
ing smile as she saw the extremely good-looking young 
priest. 

“Colette, this is Father Max, he will stop with us 
over night, and I am going to put him in the back cor- 
ner chamber, the one to the east. Get a lamp and take 
him upstairs. Also take up a pitcher of cold drinking 
water, some towels and some matches.” 

The girl, when she was presented to Father Max, 


COLETTE, THE INCORRIGIBLE 


75 


curtsied and gave him the look with which she usually 
began her conquests. She was a tall, well-formed girl 
with red gold hair, blue eyes and a pretty face. Her 
walk was undulating, her gestures alluring. She was 
the embodiment of pose, of coquetry, and of affectation. 
As she preceded Father Max up the stairs, she now and 
then turned her head and gave him a dazzling smile. 
She also was most careless in her display of a pair of 
very trim, white-stockinged ankles. When Father Max 
had put out the light and got into bed, he made certain 
reflections in regard to Jean and Colette. 

“Jean was right,” thought he, “when he told me to 
beware of the wiles of Colette. She has commenced 
operations with me already. She is a handsome girl 
and a fascinating girl in her way, and I can see how she 
might lead the ordinary man or even a priest of the 
church into doing foolish things. I’m not so sure that 
I myself might not be led to dally with her at odd 
moments. That, however, would be quite different 
from falling in love with her, the which would be an 
impossibility. Jean is undoubtedly jealous. All boys 
are jealous when they see an older masculine friend in 
danger of being seduced by a mere girl, a ridiculous, no 
account girl. That boy Jean is a wonder. I never saw 
a smarter little chap. He must be well educated too, 
for he uses words as long as my arm. Where could he 
have seen me on the two other occasions which he spoke 
of? He may have been near by when I put to sleep the 
two bodies who were guarding the aeroplane, but he 


76 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


could not have been present in the cabin in the woods. 
It was barely four o’clock in the morning, and it was 
still dark, no, I don’t think that he could have been there 
at all.” 

The young priest was tired and sleepy as never be- 
fore. He quickly sank into slumber and slept the night 
through without a break. When he came down stairs 
at nine o’clock next morning, he found the place de- 
serted by all but the members of the household. His 
breakfast, some eggs, toast and coffee was served by 
Colette. She asked him tenderly how he had slept and 
was solicitous as to the way he liked his coffee and eggs. 
His table was set in one of those small, sheltered alcoves 
which abound in restaurants and hostelries. Colette 
stood beside him, lingeringly, as if loathe to go away. 
At length, unasked, she took the seat opposite him. 

“I hope, Father,” she remarked, “that you are 
going to stop with us a long time. It is such a good 
thing to have a priest in the house. It gives a sort of 
religious spirit to the place. I really feel that I am a 
better girl already, because you are here. Perhaps be- 
fore you go, you will hear my confession.” 

“I don’t think so, Mademoiselle Colette. I rarely 
hear confessions, especially from girls. The old chaps 
do that. Now that I think of it, a girl did once confess 
to me. I didn’t believe a word of it. I am positive that 
she was romancing.” 

“And did you grant her absolution ?” 

“I certainly did. That is what I was there for.” 


COLETTE, THE INCORRIGIBLE 


77 


“Monsieur le Pretre,” said Colette, sadly, “I feel 
that I must apologize to you for my shabby appearance. 
This gown which I am wearing has been altered not 
once but several times, and is almost ready to drop to 
pieces. It is impossible any longer to buy even calico, 
to say nothing about linen, cambric or silk. Cambrai, 
as you know has always been celebrated for its cambric 
muslins, but the mills have long since been shut down 
and not a yard of it has been made since the war. We 
haven’t had a Paris fashion magazine in years, and 
haye to cut our gowns and trim our hats after some 
hideous designs which come now and then from Berlin. 
Do I not look a fright ?” 

“On the contrary, your appearance is charming. 
You must remember the old saying, ‘Beauty when un- 
adorned, adorned the most.’ When a girl is handsome, 
one does not look at her outer covering so much as at 
the girl herself.” 

“And just look at this shoe. Did you ever see any- 
thing more shameful ?” 

Colette lifted her small left foot and rested it upon 
her right knee. It was a low shoe with a high, French 
heel and was very much the worse for wear. Evidently 
it had been to the cobblers more than once. Several 
inches of a very neat ankle were exposed to view, and 
her white stocking had a hole in it. 

“One doesn’t notice the shoe, Mademoiselle Colette, 
when one has something so much more interesting to 
look at.” 


78 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“It is absolutely impossible to buy shoes. I am not 
speaking, of course, of those thick, flat-soled pasteboard 
horrors which have taken their place in the shops, and 
for which the shop-keepers demand a fortune. I declare 
to you, Monsieur le Pretre, if I didn’t go barefoot three- 
fourths of the time, I wouldn’t have any shoes at all. 
You must really have a poor opinion of my looks.” 

“Nonsense, I say again that your appearance is 
altogether charming, also, I think that you know it. No 
matter how dilapidated your garments, no matter how 
much or how little you had on, you would still be a 
most fascinating creature. I have always said that any- 
thing looks well on a pretty girl, and that nothing looks 
well on an ugly girl. When I look at you I know abso- 
lutely that I am right.” 

“Father Max, you are certainly most genteel in your 
remarks and in your manners. One would know after 
talking to you five minutes that you were a Frenchman. 
You have a somewhat strange accent though and I think 
that you must come from some distant province. Is it 
not so ? It is a great relief to meet you after conversing 
for so long a time with those boorish Germans. There 
are no young Frenchmen here excepting the halt, the 
maimed and the blind. All the able-bodied French 
youths have gone to the war. If there is one who hasn’t 
gone to the war, he is beneath notice. You may have 
thought that our man, Frangois, was an able-bodied 
man, but he isn’t. He lost a leg fighting with the 
French armies before the Germans came to Cambrai, 


COLETTE, THE INCORRIGIBLE 


79 


and has a cork one, though one wouldn’t notice it. If 
the Germans knew that he had been in the French 
army, they would send him to a prison camp. Oh, if I 
could only have run away before the invaders came and 
gone to Paris, but Uncle Pierre wouldn’t let me.” 

“I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t let you either. 
What do you do to pass the time when you are not 
visiting so amicably with those German officers ?” 

“I don’t visit with them amicably. I just say and 
do what is necessary in serving them. I hate them.” 

“It didn’t look that way when I saw you last night. 
You were smiling at that thick, pasty-faced Lieutenant 
in the most engaging manner.” 

“And what would you have me do ? Scowl at him 
so that he would never come near the place again? I 
know my business better. I have to treat our patrons 
with courtesy and kindness.” 

“That is all right, Mademoiselle Colette, but you 
mustn’t let your kindness go so far as to make the poor 
sheep think that they are making an impression on 
your heart, which they will surely do if you look at 
them as you have looked at me several times since I 
have known you. It is all right to practice your bland- 
ishments upon them just for the sake of keeping in prac- 
tice, but you must remember that the boche is a stupid 
animal and will take things for granted which are not 
really so. But I was asking you what you did for 
amusement when you were not amusing yourself in 
this manner.” 


80 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Amusement! Why we no longer know what the 
word means. There are absolutely no amusements in 
this God-forsaken town. To be sure, you can go to the 
public square before the Hotel de Ville, afternoons and 
evenings, and listen to the German regimental band. 
That is to say if you care to hear ‘Die Wacht am Rhein 1 
and a lot of other horrid airs. Sometimes I go there, 
but I hate it like poison and always come home very 
mad. Oh, if I could once more listen to the Marseil- 
laise!” 

Father Max now left Mademoiselle Colette, and 
went into the storeroom to interview her uncle, Pierre 
Mouchard. He talked with him long and earnestly and 
Monsieur Mouchard was evidently much pleased with 
the conversation. 

“I foresee,” said he, “that we are going to get along 
famously. We are going to be the best of friends, and 
we cannot help being of great assistance to each other. 
You must not show yourself to the German officers 
when they come to the inn this afternoon. I will fix 
up that corner booth for you so that you can sit there 
and listen to everything they say. There is a little door 
leading from it to the kitchen which will enable you to 
dodge them if they should take it in their heads to look 
into the booth. Even Colette will not know you are 
there. It is wonderful how much useful information 
one can get by listening to the foolish, half-drunken 
vaporings of these Teutonic jackasses,” 


CHAPTER VI 
The Pigeon Post 

At noon that day, General Baron Hugo von Stoll- 
berg, who was evidently not in the best of tempers, was 
pacing the floor of the Keranec salon. He had caught 
no glimpse of his beautiful Jaqueline, and had seen the 
boy, Jean, coming up through the grounds of the 
chateau the same as usual. Zellner had failed in his 
task and the General was vexed. Presently, the cap- 
tain, who had gone out early in the morning, made his 
appearance. 

“Well,” asked General Stollberg. “What success 
have you had with that boy next door ? What luck with 
the accident you were going to arrange?” 

“Rotten,” answered Zellner, tersely. 

“I inferred as much,” said the General, angrily, 
“for I saw him this morning, and he seemed to be in 
the best of health.” 

“The worst of it is that I have lost my man Fritz 
in the operation. Fritz was the finest servant I ever 
had, he was the best man in his company, and made an 
ideal orderly. He was one of those stolid, wooden- 
faced Prussians who look as if they know nothing, but 
who really know more than the devil himself. There 

6 81 


82 MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 

<* 

was no one more willing, and he would execute my or- 
ders in a jiffy, without question, no matter what they 
were. If I had told him to cut off a child’s hand, or 
bayonet an old woman, psst, it would be done before 
you could say ‘blooey’. Once he and I were crossing 
the St. Quentin canal bridge, when I saw a decrepit old 
Frenchman sitting upon the stone coping of the bridge, 
with his feet dangling above the water and his head 
sunk dejectedly upon his breast, as if he had lost his 
last friend on earth. I said to Fritz in jest, not really 
meaning it, “It would be a good joke to bump the old 
chap off, and, do you know, the rascal, before I could 
stop him, ran up behind the old dotard and shoved him 
off into the canal. I was sorry for it, though the old 
cripple’s struggles in the water before he sank gave me 
a good laugh. Still there was no one in sight and no 
harm was done. Well, night before last, I gave Fritz 
full instructions, told him to go to the postern gate of 
the chateau grounds at four o'clock in the morning, to 
wait until the boy came out, and to follow him, no mat- 
ter how long or how far, until there came an opportun- 
ity for the little accident which we spoke of. What 
was the result? This morning the body of Fritz was 
found floating in the river, lodged against one of the 
piers of the Scheldt gate bridge, with his skull smashed 
in as one smashes an egg shell.” 

“That is strange. Could the boy have done it?” 

“Certainly not. The blow was dealt by a man and 
by a very strong man at that. Fritz had a regular 


THE PIGEON POST 


83 


Prussian skull, an inch thick and as hard and tough as 
hickory. No ordinary man could have made an impres- 
sion on it.” 

“It looks as though someone was interfering with 
our plans in this matter, as if someone stood in our 
way. A Frenchman of course. These French give us 
a beastly lot of trouble. We never shall find out either 
who killed your man. They shut their mouths tighter 
than clams, and no amount of torture makes them 
speak. Better shoot half a dozen of them just for luck. 
Take some of those fellows say, who were put into the 
conciergerie yesterday because they neglected to salute 
when I rode by in my car. They are all a lot of damn- 
able spies anyway, and we can’t make a miss.” 

That night Jaqueline took the cage or hamper of 
doves which Jean had brought the night before and 
carried it to her room. She then sat down at her desk 
and consulted a small typist’s dictionary, one of those 
dictionaries about two inches wide and five inches long 
which contain two columns of words to a page, now 
and then jotting down figures upon paper. After fifteen 
minutes of this work, she cut out two slips of thin note 
paper three inches long and a half-inch wide and wrote 
upon each of them in ink the following numerals : 
66-2-32 43-1-20 68-2-9 102-2-37 
71-1-18 34-2-28 51-2-13 83-1-6 
If one turned to the sixty-sixth page of her diction- 
ary and upon the second column of the page counted 
down to the thirty-second word, one would come to the 


84 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


word “next.” Following this method with the rest of 
the numerals on the narrow strip of paper, one would 
have the following translation of the puzzle : 

“Next great offensive toward Paris. Exact infor- 
mation later.” 

Jaqueline now took two pieces of strong silk thread, 
laid them crossways of the narrow strip, and rolled the 
paper into tight, hard rolls, a half-inch long and one- 
eighth of an inch thick, so that the threads were in the 
centers. She then took a goose quill and cut two 
lengths from it, each about five-eighths of an inch long. 
Into these cylinders she pushed the rolls of paper, 
bringing the ends of the silk threads to the tops of the 
cylinders and tying them in hard knots. She now took 
the two doves from their crate and put them on the 
desk in front of her, giving them a small saucer of 
grain which she had in readiness. 

They did not look like ordinary domestic doves. 
They rather resembled a certain breed of thoroughbred 
pigeons. When they had eaten up the grain, she fas- 
tened one of the goose quill cylinders securely to a leg 
of each pigeon, then, taking a bird in either hand, she 
went out of her room, ascended two flights of stairs to 
the attic, and by the attic ladder and the scuttle, gained 
the roof of the chateau. She cuddled the pigeons to 
her cheeks and gave them instructions mingled with 
endearing words then, having looked about her to see 
if she was free from observation, she flung them into 
the air. 


THE PIGEON POST 


85 


The birds arose to a height of a hundred feet, 
circled around several times, and then darted away on 
a bee line toward the southwest. It is to be supposed 
of course that they arrived home in a few hours, and 
that they were received by their original owner, the per- 
son who, in some mysterious way had transferred them 
to Jaqueline. It is also to be supposed that their owner, 
possessing a dictionary identical with Jaqueli lie’s would 
have no trouble in deciphering the girl's code message. 
There were two birds and two messages so that if one 
of the birds fell by the wayside, the other would still 
bear along the message. 

The pretty Jaqueline looked long after the vanished 
pigeons, sending after them earnest wishes for their 
safe arrival at their destination. When she went to 
bed, she was filled with a happy exultation. She had 
done something for her beloved country. It seemed a 
small thing to do, but the consequences might be tre- 
mendous. The fate of nations might depend upon that 
short message. After she went to sleep, she still fol- 
lowed, in her dreams the flight of her winged messen- 
gers through the starlit night. 

On Saturday morning, Pierre Mouchard received a 
visit from his brother-in-law, Martin Louvac. The 
two men sat in the serving room conversing for a while, 
then Mouchard went out and brought Father Max to 
the conference. 

“Father Max,” said Mouchard, “this is my brother- 
in-law, Martin Louvac. I have told him about you and 


86 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


you may speak freely before him, as he is one of us.” 

“What have you learned to the advantage of our 
cause?” asked Louvac, after he had shaken hands with 
the young reverend. 

“I have learned a lot of things which are quite 
important. First, the total number of men which the 
Germans have in France at the present time. I should 
say that they have, roughly speaking, something over 
three millions. Two millions on the firing line and a 
million of reserves. I have also found out what differ- 
ent corps, Prussians, Bavarians and Wurtembergers are 
stationed at the different sectors, and whether they are 
regulars, landsturmers, shock-troops or the lesser ef- 
fectives of the 1919 and 1920 classes. I have located 
their munition depots, and know pretty closely the num- 
ber of their available aeroplanes, fighting planes, bomb 
planes and scout planes.” 

“What will it help us, so long as we have no way of 
getting this information to the allied commanders?” 
asked Louvac, sadly. 

“There must be a way of getting through the 
lines,” answered Mouchard. “We will find someone to 
undertake it. It surely can be done.” 

“Not in a thousand years,” protested Louvac. “If 
one could, by the skin of his teeth, get past the German 
front into what is called ‘No Man’s Land,’ he would still 
have to face the barrage and machine gun fire of the 
French and Americans. The chances are a hundred to 
one that he would die in the attempt.” 


THE PIGEON POST 


87 


“If it were necessary, I would risk it myself/’ said 
Father Max, calmly. “I have a better plan though. I 
think that I can heliograph our messages.” 

“It’s all of sixty miles to Amiens, the nearest point 
where we could reach the allied outposts,” objected 
Louvac. “You can’t heliograph sixty miles.” 

“It has been done on a bright day and under favor- 
able circumstances. I wasn’t thinking of that, however. 
Quite often we see French and American aeroplanes 
hovering over Cambrai. I was thinking that I might 
get messages to them. Every aeroplane pilot under- 
stands the heliograph and Morse code.” 

“How can you signal them when they are not in 
the same spot for two seconds at a time ?” 

“If I could get three or four flashes to them, they 
would understand that someone was signaling, and 
they would bore straight toward the flash, which should 
make it easy. If you will procure me two squares of 
mirror five inches across, I will rig up some sort of a 
heliograph instrument. It will be necessary to find 
some place to work from. It must be high up above the 
buildings of the immediate neighborhood, it must not be 
exposed to enemy observation, and yet it must be open 
to the sky, so that our flashes will not be hidden from 
the aeroplanes.” 

“I think that I know the very place,” said Louvac. 
“The church of St. Martin has a square tower, at the 
top of which is a flat platform, surrounded by a three- 
foot battlemented wall. The sacristan of the church is 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


88 

a friend of mine and a French patriot. I will arrange 
with him to give you access to the tower at all times. ” 

The consultation now broke up, and Martin Lou vac 
departed. Father Max going into the restaurant, or tap 
room, found Colette sitting at one of the tables, holding 
in front of her a round mirror, two inches in diameter, 
and dabbing at her delightfully retrousse nose with a 
powder puff. 

“Mademoiselle Colette,” said he. “I would like 
very much to take you to the band concert this after- 
noon in the Hotel de Ville park, but I have no registra- 
tion card and can’t appear in public.” 

“That need not stop you, Monsieur le Pretre. I will 
get you one this very hour.” 

“How will you be able to do it? Must I not apply 
for it in person?” 

“Not at all. I will get it for you of Adjutant Kotz 
at the Hotel de Ville. I had mine from him. He is a 
friend and will do anything to please me. It will be 
the easiest thing in the world. I don’t care a rap for 
the concerts, but I would go anywhere with you.” 

Giving Father Max a languorous look out of the 
corner of her eye, she put on her hat and went out upon 
the street. 

“Colette is altogether too intimate with these Ger- 
man officers,” thought the young clergyman. “It 
doesn’t look well in a French girl. Neither can a 
French girl accept favors from one of these German 
swine without paying for them.” 


the pigeon post 


89 


In an hour Colette returned and flung the registra- 
tion card upon the table before Father Max with an air 
of triumph. 

“You see I’m as good as my word,” said she, laugh- 
ing. “I had to tell them all about you, though. I said 
that you had come from Peronne to take Father Tous- 
saint’s place at the church of St. Roch. You see Father 
Toussaint disappeared quite suddenly last Monday, and 
hasn’t been seen since.” 

“ Suppose, though, that he should suddenly turn 
up. That would put me in quite a predicament.” 

“Don’t let that worry you. When a person disap- 
pears nowadays in Cambrai, he goes for good. Some- 
times he is found in the river and sometimes in an alley- 
way with his throat cut, or a bullet in his brain. I gave 
them also your full Christian name and surname, the 
date and place of your birth, the names of your father 
and mother who are still living, their age and a lot of 
other details. They are very particular about all these 
little things in issuing registration cards.” 

“But you couldn’t give them these facts. You don’t 
know anything about me.” 

“That makes no difference. I just invented as I 
went along.” 

“Mademoiselle Colette, you have a great imagina- 
tion and a wonderful inventive faculty. Some people 
might call it by another name, but some people, too, are 
altogether too scrupulously nice and illiberal.” 

That afternoon Father Max and Nicolette Mou- 


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MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


chard set out for the Hotel de Ville Square to attend the 
concert of the German band. Nicolette had added sev- 
eral coquettish touches to her costume, and though it 
was pitifully shabby and inadequate, yet she presented a 
most pleasing and gallant appearance. Colette walked 
with mincing footsteps and a swaying, undulating mo- 
tion of the body. If she meant to attract attention, she 
had her wish, for every man and woman they met 
turned to look at her, the women more than the men. 
When they arrived at the park in front of the Hotel de 
Ville, they found it filled with people. The band occu- 
pied a kiosk or band stand in the middle of the square, 
and the people strolled about, or sat upon benches which 
were scattered here and there through the park. For 
the most part the crowd was composed of German sol- 
diers and officers. Sullen, shabby, listless women, old 
men and ragged children made up the rest of it. The 
benches were occupied by the Germans, for the French 
populace there was standing room only. Toward the 
last of the concert, when the band was playing “Die 
Wacht am Rhein,” Colette hummed “The Marseillaise.” 

“Be careful,” cautioned Father Max, “some of these 
Germans may hear you.” 

“What do I care?” asked Colette, defiantly, “Eve 
sung and whistled it more than once for the benefit of 
German officers. They only laughed and clapped their 
hands.” 

Colette seemed to be clothed with a sort of immunity 
which permitted her to do about anything she wished in 


THE PIGEON POST 


91 


this German controlled city. Father Max decided that 
this did not speak well for the girl’s character and repu- 
tation. 

As they were leaving the park a heavy touring car, 
containing some pompous German official, came with 
reckless speed down the crowded street. A ragged boy 
of eight or nine sprang to one side to avoid it and, in 
doing so, bumped against a dandyfied young officer who 
was one of a party of four. This man, pouring forth a 
stream of profanity and obscenity, seized the urchin by 
the collar, and beat him savagely and cruelly with his 
swagger stick. It seemed as if he would never stop, as 
if his lust for torture would never be satisfied. At 
length he flung the unconscious boy to the pavement, 
and joined his three friends who were laughing up- 
roariously. 

Father Max, who had come up toward the last of 
the performance, saw red. He grasped his heavy cane 
more firmly and went to spring upon the officer. At 
that moment two arms which were like steel bands 
were flung about him and pinioned his own arms to his 
sides. He struggled mightily, but it was useless, he 
was held as in a vise. He twisted his head around and 
saw that his captor was Martin Louvac, his acquaint- 
ance of the early morning. 

“Careful, careful,' ” muttered Louvac in his ear. 
“You can accomplish nothing, as the boy is probably 
already done for. You would only run your head 
against a stone wall. If you as much as touch one of 


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MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


those toy officers, it will be the firing squad for you. 
More than that, your usefulness to our cause will be 
past. Think of France, my son, and get control of 
yourself.” 

Father Max saw the truth of Louvac’s words, and 
let his arms fall supine. Only then did Louvac release 
him. The four popinjay officers had gone their swag- 
gering way. The unfortunate lad lay upon his back, 
senseless. His mouth was frothing, his eyes open and 
staring, his white face was covered with blood and his 
tattered clothing was almost torn from his emaciated 
body. A ring of frightened women and children stood 
about him, gazing with lack-lustre, furtive eyes. Not 
one of them dared so much as to touch the boy. Father 
Max took the poor tortured body tenderly in his arms 
and turned to Martin Louvac. 

“Where shall we take him ?” asked the young priest. 

“There’s an apothecary’s shop near by, kept by a 
good woman named Guillemot. She will take him in 
and will help us do what is necessary. I fear though, 
that there is little we can do.” 

Martin Louvac led the way to Madame Guillemot’s 
shop, Father Max followed with the boy, and Colette 
brought up the rear of the procession. She did not 
seem to be over interested in the boy’s fate. She 
thought more of hanging to the skirts of the priest’s 
cassock. 

When they had come to the shop, Madame Guille- 
mot, a comely, stout, middle-aged person, grieved and 


THE PIGEON POST 


93 


sympathetic, showed them into a back room, and the 
victim of Prussian kultur was laid upon a bed. Louvac 
bent over him, felt his pulse, pushed back his eyelids, 
and felt of his head. 

“It is just as I thought,” said he, “his skull is frac- 
tured, and it is only a question of an hour or two. 
Those swagger canes are usually loaded with lead and 
have heavy iron ferrules.” 

“Had we not better get a doctor?” asked Father 
Max. “I feel that we ought to do something.” 

“It would be of no use whatever. If anything could 
be done, I would undertake it myself. I, myself, am 
something of a physician and surgeon. I was brought 
up by an old doctor here in Cambrai, and often helped 
him in his operations. When the Germans first invaded 
France, and our wounded came streaming back to the 
town, I took off my coat and worked with the regular 
surgeons. Many a bullet wound I have probed and 
sterilized, more than once I have cut off a leg or arm.” 

Seeing that nothing might be done for the boy, 
Father Max left some money with the good woman, 
and parting with Martin Louvac at the door of the 
shop, accompanied Colette back to the inn. For a man 
in holy orders the thoughts of Father Max were savage 
and violent. He muttered as he went, and it is to be 
feared that his words were far from godly. 

“I wish that I knew the name of that poor boy's 
murderer,” said he aloud. 

“I know him,” said Colette. “He has often been 


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MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


to the Inn. He is Lieutenant Franz Stirpitz, an aide- 
de-camp of General Stollberg.” 

‘‘Franz Stirpitz,” repeated Father Max, “Lieutenant 
Franz Stirpitz. I will remember that name until the 
day of Judgment.” 

Some of the readers of this tale may object to these 
accounts of German cruelty on the ground that they are 
invented or exaggerated. They would be wrong. They 
must remember that these officers were wholly drunk a 
part of the time, and partly drunk the rest of the time, 
and that a German officer when drunk likes nothing 
better than to kill people. If he can slay women and 
children, it satisfies his blood lust the better, further- 
more, every one of these instances of cruelty is taken 
from well authenticated records of German atrocities. 


CHAPTER VII 
The Fateful Kiss 

The next morning Colette did not wait for Father 
Max to give the invitation. She gave it herself. 

“I want you to go with me this morning to the 
Fleury woods,” said she, “the woods beyond the 
Scheldt river gate. There are fine paths through the 
forest, there are mossy stones to sit upon and brooks to 
dabble in. Though the sun is bright and hot, it is cool 
under the trees and in the shadows of the rocks. We 
can talk all we want, without interruption, and we will 
get an appetite. We can pick wild violets and listen to 
the birdies.” 

The young priest did not care to again accompany 
the girl, but he consented in order to keep upon good 
terms with her. 

When they had walked for some distance along the 
road which traversed the wood, they came to a rough 
and lowly cabin with a patched roof and many broken 
window panes. 

“This hut” said Colette, “was the scene last Tues- 
day of an awful murder. It makes my flesh creep 
when I look at it. This was the place, too, where Fath- 
er Toussaint disappeared. Jaques Perault who lived in 

95 


96 MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 

the house was a wood-cutter and was also game-keeper 
for the Bishop of Cambrai who owned the shooting in 
the forest until he was deprived of it by the German 
commander. Perault had a wife and little girl of eight 
or nine, his wife lay at the point of death, and he came 
last Monday night to the parish house of St. Roch 
church and asked Father Toussaint to go with him and 
administer the last rites of the church, the extreme unc- 
tion, or whatever they call it, to the dying woman. 
Father Toussaint went with him, and that was the last 
that was ever seen of the priest. Next morning the 
whole family of three lay dead in the hut. The woman 
had apparently died of natural causes, Jaques Perault 
had been shot through the heart, and the child had both 
hands cut off and had bled to death. Father Toussaint’s 
prayer book and crucifix were found on the floor of 
the cabin, but the reverend father had completely van- 
ished. That was the same morning that the aeroplane 
was found with the dead aviator. Two strange things 
weren’t they to happen the same night? Of course 
though they had nothing to do with each other. Jaques 
Perault was so poor that there was nothing to steal. 
Why was he shot and the baby mutilated? Who did 
it?” 

“That is a foolish question, Mademoiselle Colette, 
when you consider the fact that there are at present 
something more than three million Teutons in this part 
of France.” 

They presently came to a deep ravine with rocky 


THE FATEFUL KISS 


97 


sides, in the bottom of which tumbled and foamed a 
clear cold brook. Colette stopped, took off her shoes 
and stockings and paddled her feet in the crystal water. 
Father Max turned away his head while she was strip- 
ping her white feet and calves, but he needn’t have 
bothered, as she was with reason proud of these irre- 
proachable members, and probably meant that he should 
see them. When she had finished and had reclothed 
her extremities, they climbed the further bank of the 
gully, and sat down upon a flat, mossy stone. The girl 
seemed to be lost in meditation. 

“What are you thinking of ?” asked Father Max. 

“I was thinking what an awful thing celibacy must 
be for a young and handsome priest.” 

“It is not nearly as bad as you think. When a man 
enters holy orders, he knows just what is ahead of him 
and does it with his eyes open. Men wouldn’t enter the 
priesthood either unless they had put behind them all 
thoughts of love and marriage. The most of them 
probably have never had such thought.” 

“And had you before you were ordained never 
thought of such things? Were you never in love?” 

“I don’t remember that I was ever really in that 
unhappy state. I may have had though what they call 
'calf love’ when I was ' a boy, along with whooping 
cough, chicken pox and measles.” 

“But suppose, and this is where the dreadful part of 
celibacy comes in, you should meet a girl now, and 
should fall desperately in love with her. Such things 

7 


98 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


have happened to young priests. What would you do ?” 

“I should either banish her from my mind by re- 
treating to my darkened cell and counting my beads, or 
I should renounce the priesthood and marry her.” 

“Then if a girl should happen to fall head over heels 
in love with you, there would be at least a chance for 
her ?” 

“If she were pretty enough and good enough, and I 
should reciprocate her feelings, there certainly would 
be a chance.” 

They now set out upon their return to the city. 
When they were descending the precipitous bank of the 
ravine. Father Max went ahead, and reaching back- 
ward, held Colette’s hand to help her down. As they 
neared the bottom, Colette stumbled and fell into his 
protecting arms. Her blue eyes were half closed, 
dreamily, and her inviting mouth was within three 
inches of his own. Before he realized what he was 
doing, he leaned forward and kissed her. At once her 
round arm wound about his neck, her lithe body flat- 
tened itself against him, and the kiss was prolonged to 
an unconscionable time. At length, much vexed, he 
pushed her away. 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” said he. 

“Are you sorry?” she asked, with a tantalizing 
laugh. 

“Yes, I am, and so should you be. You, and I 
more than you, have forgotten that strict line of duty 
which encompasses the priesthood. I am ashamed of 
myself that I should have had such a relapse.” 


THE FATEFUL KISS 


99 


“Do you know, Father Max, sometimes I catch my- 
self thinking that you are not a priest at all. You don’t 
walk like a priest, you don’t talk like a priest and you 
don’t act like a priest. Furthermore, you don’t kiss 
like a priest.” 

“How does a priest usually kiss?” 

“A priest’s kiss is a sort of holy brotherhood affair. 
It is certainly not at all like yours. Also it seems to 
me that you must have had previous practice.” 

“Nonsense. I can assure you that you are the first 
girl that I have kissed since I have worn these vest- 
ments. Also I promise you that you will be the last 
girl, as long as these priestly garments cover my un- 
worthy person. I regret the occurrence exceedingly and 
I promise you that it shall happen never again.” 

“I would like to make a bet with you, Father Max, 
that you will kiss me again whenever I want, that you 
will kiss me again before the week is out.” 

“Not if I am in my right mind.. Mademoiselle 
Colette.” 

That afternoon when Father Max was stationed at 
his post of observation in the corner booth of the res- 
taurant, he heard Colette in animated conversation with 
a man. Parting the curtains of his shelter, he looked 
out into the tap, or wine room, and saw her sitting at a 
table with a young German officer. There was no one 
else present, and their talk and demeanor were free and 
familiar. Presently, they both leaned forward, and 
Colette kissed the officer upon the mouth. 


100 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“I see now” meditated Father Max, “what a fool I 
made of myself in kissing that girl. It was a great 
mistake and probably will lead to unpleasant complica- 
tions. Colette is certainly an extremely naughty girl.” 

The next day, Monday, was a German feast day. 
Whether it was the anniversary of some great victory, 
or wholesale murder of women and children, or whether 
it was the birthday of some great German chief, the 
all highest Wilhelm, the brainless crown prince, Von 
Hindenburg or Von Ludendorf does not at present ap- 
pear. At nine o’clock that night every German officer 
in Cambrai, and there were at least one thousand of 
them, was present in the hall of the Weavers’ guild, an 
immense barrack-like place in the top of a marvelously 
sculptured stone building which was all of three hun- 
dred years old. A great number of barrels of beer had 
been provided by the commissariat, and from every 
throat not occupied with swilling the said beer arose 
the shout of “Hoch der Kaiser,” or “hoch somebody or 
something else.” 

The ordinary clients of the Golden Fleece Inn being 
thus otherwise engaged, the wine room was empty and 
the evening was very dull indeed. Shortly before nine 
o’clock Pierre Mouchard went out upon some mysteri- 
ous political errand, saying that he would return in a 
half hour. A few minutes later Colette foolishly sent 
Frangois upon an errand to a friend’s house several 
streets away and, as Father Max was in his room under 
the eaves, she was left alone in the restaurant of the 
hotel. 


THE FATEFUL KISS 


101 


Just then, as bad luck would have it, two German 
soldiers, much the worse for liquor, came swaggering 
into the bar, took their seats at a table, and called loudly 
for schnapps. Colette refused to serve them. Pierre 
Mouchard had certain rules for the dispensing of 
liquor. He would serve officers drunk or sober, he 
would serve privates when sober, but he would not 
serve them when drunk. That is where he drew the 
line. In this ruling he was upheld by the German 
authorities. When Colette refused to serve the drunken 
pair, they beat upon the table with their fists, and 
threatened her with a string of obscene oaths, those 
expressions and pointed phrases with which the Ger- 
man language is so replete. 

As she still remained obdurate, they arose, and 
staggering into the store room, helped themselves to an 
assortment of bottles and glasses. After they had satis- 
fied their immediate thirst, they threw glasses and 
bottles about the room, breaking mirrors, ruining pic- 
tures and creating havoc generally. When Colette re- 
monstrated with them, they jumped up, as if their atten- 
tion had just been called to the fact that there was a 
pretty girl within reach, and chased her about the 
premises with leering faces and brutally outstretched 
arms. 

Father Max heard the unwonted noise, and con- 
vincing himself presently that surely something was 
rotten in the state of Denmark, came running down 
stairs, and arrived upon the scene just as one of the 


102 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


ruffians had seized Colette and was trying to kiss her. 
instead of flying to her rescue, he turned into the 
kitchen, unseen by the two Germans, and darted out of 
the back door into the alleyway. Colette saw him as 
he fled, and was filled with scorn at his supposed cow- 
ardice. She did not know Father Max. Once in the 
alleyway, he dashed through the passage between the 
inn and the adjoining house, and entered the hotel by 
the front door of the bar room. 

Just as he came into the place, one of the boche 
swine, bending the struggling Colette backward upon 
a table, was thrusting a repulsive countenance into hers. 
The young priest surveyed the scene with satisfaction. 
He was like a war horse scenting the battle from afar. 
It was all of a week since he had broken a German head, 
and he was filled with zest and anticipation. 

The German’s beastly mouth never touched Colette. 
Instead, her assailant was jerked away from her with 
a force that made his bones rattle. Such was the power 
of the wrench upon his collar that he staggered head- 
long across the room, brought up against the wall and 
fell in a heap upon the floor. His brother soldier slowly 
and stupidly realizing the enormity of this attack upon 
the sacred forces of the All Highest, advanced upon 
Father Max with arms flying like a windmill, but was 
hurled backward with a blow under the ear which 
rocked and dazed him. The two boches now came on 
together, and Father Max concluded that the time for 
the benediction had arrived. One of his pig-like adver- 


The fateful kiss 


103 


saries was quickly put to sleep by a blow in the solar 
plexus. The young clergyman backed the other up 
against a post which stood in the middle of the restaur- 
ant, seized him by the hair, and beat his head against 
the post with such force and for so long a time that the 
fellow at last slid out of his grasp and fell unconscious 
at the foot of it. Father Max was what might be 
called “a militant churchman.” 

“That was a great fight, Father,” commented Col- 
ette. “You are surely all there when it comes to that 
sort of thing. I never thought that it was in you. Just 
think, I imagined that you were running away, and 
I despised you for a coward.” 

“I ran out of the back door and into the front, 
Mademoiselle Colette, so that those pigs wouldn’t think 
that I belonged in the hotel. I meant to beat them up, 
and I didn’t want them to take revenge upon you and 
your uncle.” 

“Father Max, you are an angel. I could kiss you 
for that a dozen times.” 

Whether Colette would have put her words into 
facts remained unknown, for just then Frangois came 
into the tavern. He surveyed the two slumbering Huns 
with concern and with bulging eyes. 

“Who did that?” he asked, apprehensively. 

“I did it with my little hatchet,” replied Father 
Max. 

“But you haven’t any hatchet. There’s no blood 
about. What do you mean ?” 


104 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“I was speaking figuratively. Instead of a hatchet, . 
I used my bare fists. They were making a row here, 
and I punished them for being bad boys.” 

“He certainly did that,” confirmed Colette, admir- 
ingly. 

“But we must do something with them,” said 
Francois, fearfully. “They mustn’t be found here. 
We would all be stood against a wall and shot.” 

“What do you suggest?” asked the priest. 

“We must carry them out and hide them some- 
where. Ah, I have it. There’s a wine shop upon the 
lane two or three hundred feet away. We’ll take the 
bodies there and lay them in the gutter. When they 
come to, they’ll think that they were thrown out of the 
wine shop.” 

This program having been agreed to, Father Max 
seized one of his victims by the collar, and Frangois 
went to take the other. 

“No, I’ll handle them both,” declared Father Max, 
who just then remembered that Frangois had a cork 
leg. 

With each hand he grasped one of the senseless 
bodies by the collar, and dragging one on either side 
of him, passed through the bar room and the kitchen 
and bumped them down the steps to the cobbles of the 
lane. Up the lane he went with his burdens, seemingly 
without any particular effort, while Frangois passed on 
before to show the way. 

“Here is the wine shop,” at length said Frangois, 


THE FATEFUL KISS 


105 


pointing to the windows of a somewhat mean and dingy 
mm hole. “An Austrian keeps it, and I hope they will 
get him into a lot of trouble.” 

Father Max cast one of the sleeping bodies into the 
gutter and piled his comrade upon the top of him. 

“Requiescat in pace,” said he. 

“What do you mean by that?” asked Frangois. 

“That means, Francois, ‘may the devil take them.’ ” 

“I hope so, too,” said Francois, earnestly. 

Coming back to the inn they found that Pierre 
Mou chard had just returned. As he listened to Father 
Max and to Colette he became very grave and serious. 

“I am not worrying about myself and Colette, or 
about the inn,” said he, when he had heard all the de- 
tails of the unfortunate affray. “We will get along 
all right here. A word to the prefect of police will fix 
that. The German officers are really interested in 
keeping the hotel open. It is you, Father Max, that I 
am troubled about. Those two sons of dogs will be 
certain to prefer exaggerated charges against a certain 
young priest, name unknown, they will comb the neigh- 
borhood for you, and if you are once arrested, the fat 
is in the fire. I think it will be best for you to go away 
for a few days. I will have my brother-in-law, Martin 
Louvac, put you up in his house. The second and third 
stories over his shop have a lot of room, and there is 
only himself and his good wife. I will write a letter 
to Martin, and Colette will carry it, and go with you to 
show you the way. Colette will also stay there the 


106 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


night. It isn’t safe for her to come through the streets 
of Cambrai alone at night, particularly on this night of 
a German feast day.” 

“Huh,” exclaimed Colette, scornfully. “I have 
done it before and more than once.” 

“We’ll see that you don’t do it again.” 

Pierre Mouchard having written the letter to his 
brother-in-law, gave it to Colette, and Colette, with the 
young priest, at once set out for the bake shop of Mar- 
tin Louvac. Unlike Jaqueline, Colette did not go by 
the way of lanes and alleyways, but chose the broadest 
and most frequented thoroughfares. It wasn’t often 
that a girl like her could show off an escort like Father 
Max, and she proposed to be seen by as many people 
as possible. 

When they arrived at the shop of Martin Louvac, 
and the worthy baker had read Mouchard’s letter, he 
gave the young priest the warmest kind of a welcome, 
and bade Mother Louvac prepare for him the guest 
rooms, a suite of two apartments, bedroom and par- 
lor, upon the second floor. As Colette had walked with 
him a long distance, the bake shop and the hotel being 
upon opposite sides of the city, and as he felt under ob- 
ligations to the girl, Father Max had Colette sit down 
with him at a table, and regaled her with cakes and 
ices. While they were eating, a handsome girl with 
dark eyes and hair, an oval and interesting face and 
a slim and shapely figure came from the back of the 
house and passed behind the counter where stood Mar- 


THE FATEFUL KISS 


107 


tin Louvac. She looked over at Colette and gave her a 
cold nod of recognition, then she began to converse in 
low tones with Martin Louvac. 

Father Max looked at the girl and felt a vague dis- 
quiet. He had never before had such a strange sensa- 
tion when gazing for the first time at a member of the 
opposite sex. The more he gazed the more his admira- 
tion grew. He didn’t realize it, but he was now looking 
at the one and only girl who once in a lifetime appears 
to most young men. 

“Why are you staring so long at that girl ?’’ asked 
Colette, angrily. “She will think that you are smitten 
with her if you don’t stop. You seem to think that she 
is something wonderful, but she isn’t. Some people 
call her downright plain.” 

“Who is she?” asked Father Max, eagerly. 

“I shan’t tell you.” 

“Very well. If I never know who she is, I will 
probably be able to survive. It is really immaterial.” 

“You know better. The moment my back is 
turned, you will commence to enquire about her. T 
know you men. You are all alike, so, there.” 

When Father Max went to bed that night, notwith- 
standing that he was dead tired and sleepy, he lay 
awake a long time thinking of the beautiful and mys- 
terious unknown whom he had seen talking with Mar- 
tin Louvac. It seemed to him that he had seen that 
face before, yet he knew that it was impossible. Per- 
haps he had dreamed it. While he was contemplating 


1G8 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


in his mind, the delightful picture of this dream girl, 
the truth suddenly came to him. She was the living 
image of the boy, Jean. That was how the face had 
come to him. Jean and she were undoubtedly brother 
and sister. She was certainly four years older than 
Jean. Jean was fifteen years of age, consequently the 
girl was nineteen. Having settled satisfactorily in his 
mind the girl’s age and status, he went to sleep, but 
even then her somewhat sad face was with him, for his 
dreams were full of her. 


CHAPTER VIII 
Louvac’s New Chimney 

The young churchman’s bedroom was at the back 
of the house, and its windows looked out upon the 
alleyway in the rear of the building. When he arose 
at six o’clock the next morning, and glanced from his 
window, he was astonished to see the boy, Jean, come 
from the kitchen door. He carried a basket containing 
a number of packages of assorted sizes, and stealing 
quickly up the lane, vanished around the next corner. 

“These people seem all to be in league with each 
other,” he soliloquized. “The boy, Jean, his sister, 
Martin Louvac, Pierre Mouchard, Colette and Fran- 
gois. I mustn’t forget the faithful Frangois. Any man 
who has lost a leg fighting the Huns deserves to be 
respected and remembered. I have fallen in with 
friends, with the very people I sought. What luck to 
have tumbled into the very heart of things. I am con- 
fident now that I shall be able to accomplish what I in- 
tended.” 

When he came down stairs, he found Martin alone 
in the front shop. 

“Monsieur Louvac,” said he. “Who was the 
young lady with dark hair and eyes who was talking 

109 


110 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


to you behind the counter while I was at the table with 
Colette Mouchard?” 

“That was Jaqueline Benoit, a member of the 
household of the Countess of Keranec,” answered 
Louvac, stiffly. “She is a companion or secretary, I 
believe, of the old lady.” 

“I saw the boy Jean, leaving the house a half hour 
before I came down. Is he not a brother of Made- 
moiselle Jaqueline?” 

“Yes.” 

“He had a basket full of packages, I suppose he is 
taking them to the chateau.” 

“You are right. Jean does the marketing for the 
chateau.” 

“Is Mademoiselle Jaqueline still here?” 

“No, she has gone home.” 

“When did she leave?” 

“I want you to come outside the shop and look at 
the new chimney I am building for my oven.” 

Martin Louvac led the way through the kitchen 
into the lane back of the house, and from there turned 
into a six foot passage between the bake shop and the 
building to the right. Father Max, as he followed in 
the baker’s footsteps, pondered upon the short answers 
he had received in regard to Jaqueline and Jean, and 
concluded that Louvac was averse to a discussion of 
the subject. 

“Here is the foundation for the chimney,” declared 
Louvac. “I have gone down four feet into the ground, 


LOUVACS NEW CHIMNEY 


111 


and have, as you see, brought it to the surface. On top 
of this rough foundation I shall build a smooth con- 
crete base, made of sand and cement, two feet high, 
and upon the base I shall lay the bricks.” 

Upon the concrete foundation, which came to the 
level of the ground, stood a rough board box, two feet 
wide, two feet high and six feet long. Beside the box 
there was a pile of sand. 

“This is the flask or mould into which I shall pour 
the sand concrete,” continued Lou vac, pointing to the 
box. “I have the sand here, but the cement hasn’t 
come yet, though I ordered it two weeks ago. The 
Germans use seven-eighths of all the cement made in 
the country for gun emplacements and machine gun 
pill boxes. That makes cement scarce and hard to get. 
There’s a lot of red tape about it too. I had to have my 
order endorsed by half a dozen officials. When I get 
the chimney built, I shall go into the kitchen and build 
the oven. When the whole thing is completed, I shall 
tear down the old chimney and oven which stand upon 
the other side of the kitchen. I am making the change 
for the reason that I will get a better draft on this side 
of the house.” 

There were four people at the breakfast table that 
morning, Martin Louvac, Madame Louvac, Colette and 
Father Max. Colette sat opposite the young priest and 
ogled him constantly. She made it appear that Father 
Max and she were upon the most intimate terms, and 
every now and then she would throw out mysterious 


112 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


hints, as if there were important secrets between them. 

“This girl is getting upon my nerves,” thought the 
clergyman. “I fancied that I would get rid of her 
when I changed my lodgings, but it was a vain hope.” 

Colette and Madame Louvac now began to discuss 
the merits of certain knit garments, and the girl art- 
fully contrived an arrangement by which she might 
come to the bakery every day to receive instructions in 
the art of knitting. Father Max listened to the agree- 
ment with dismay. 

“That girl will end by driving me to drink, or 
worse,” thought he. “She may make me desperate 
enough to give myself up to the Germans. Why, in 
blazes did I ever kiss her ?” 

That day Martin Louvac went out and bought cer- 
tain articles for his guest. There -were among them 
two squares of mirror, one five inches and one four 
inches across and two of those folding wooden tripods 
which are used by amateur photographers. The next 
morning Father Max shut himself up in the parlor of 
his suite and went to work. By noon he had made good 
progress, and his apparatus was nearing completion. 
He had glued a wooden bar, a half inch in diameter, 
across the back of each mirror, had suspended these 
bars by pivots upon uprights of the same size and ma- 
terial, and had attached one of these small, tilting look- 
ing glasses to the wooden top plate of each tripod, by a 
peg in a round hole, so that the mirrors might be turned 
toward any point of the compass. Presently, he was 


LOUVAC’S NEW CHIMNEY 


113 


conscious of being watched. He turned about and saw, 
gazing at him from the open doorway, the person 
whom he wished to see more than anyone else in the 
world, the girl of his dreams, the charming Jaqueline. 

“What are you making?” she asked, in a matter of 
fact way. 

“A heliostat, an apparatus for sending messages by 
the sun’s light. Haven’t you ever seen one?” 

“No, but I’ve heard of them. May I look at your 
machine ?” 

“You most certainly can. Sit down and I will be 
delighted to show you all about it.” 

Father Max got a chair for her, and she sat down 
with him beside the table. 

“This,” said he, pointing to the five inch mirror, 
“is the sun mirror, and this other the flash mirror. We 
have the sun mirror facing the sun, and we place the 
flash mirror to face the sun mirror. The sun shines 
upon the sun mirror, and is reflected in the flash mirror. 
We place this piece of cardboard before the flash mirror, 
thus shutting off the sun’s reflection. We raise and 
lower it quickly, and that makes the flash. I am going 
to make slides for this cardboard screen, and fasten it 
down before the mirror with a slender rubber band, so 
that when raised and released it will fly down into 
place. By working it quickly we make the dots of the 
Morse code, by holding it up a fraction of a second, we 
make the Morse dashes. The mirror may be tilted for- 
ward and backward as you see, and may be turned to 

8 


114 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


the different points of the compass thus, to follow the 
sun, which is continually on the move, notwithstand- 
ing that Joshua story in the Bible. Do you know any- 
thing about the Morse code?” 

“Yes, I know a good deal about it. I had it by 
heart once. My cousin taught me.” 

“Is your cousin a telegrapher?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“Perhaps he is an engineer.” • 

“He took an engineering course. I will tell you 
the truth. Papa Louvac and Pierre Mouchard have in- 
formed me all about you, and I trust you fully. Jean 
has also told me you saved his life, I am deeply grateful 
to you and I know you are one of us. My cousin is an 
aviator in the French flying corps. He is what is called 
an ‘Ace,’ and has brought down more than twenty Ger- 
man planes. He belongs to the Escadrille Rocham- 
beau.” 

“What is his name?” 

“I will tell you sometime. What are you going to 
do with your heliostat when you have finished it?” 

“I have collected certain information about numbers 
of troops and their disposition, about aviation fields, 
munition depots and lines of communication which cer- 
tain friends of ours would like to know about. I am 
going to try and heliograph this information to them. 
You see that I am trusting you as fully as you are 
trusting me. You have but to give a hint of my 
heliostat to the Germans, and I would have to stand 
before a firing squad.” 


LOU VACS NEW CHIMNEY 


115 


“As if I would do it. I would die first. 1 don’t 
see, though, how you are going to manage it. None 
of our friends are nearer than Amiens, or Rheims, 
which points are sixty miles away. You can’t helio- 
graph as far as that.” 

“No, I have a different scheme. I am going to try 
and get my messages to a French or American aero- 
plane. Every day or so, a French or American plane 
circles about over the city. I am going to take my 
heliostat to the top of the square tower of St. Martin’s 
church, and do my signalling from there. Ordinarily 
it would be impossible to convey a heliostat message to 
an aeroplane which is moving at the rate of sixty miles 
an hour. I think, though, that if I can get two or three 
flashes to the pilot of one of them, he will understand, 
and drive straight toward me, which will make the rest 
easy. Martin Louvac has arranged with old Anatole 
Bex, the sacristan of St. Martin’s, a faithful and dis- 
creet French patriot, to let me up into the tower.” 

“It seems to me that there is another difficulty in the 
way of heliographing to the pilot of a French or 
American aeroplane. Of course you must convince 
him that the message is authentic, that it comes from a 
friend of the Allies and not from a German source. 
How are you going to do that?” 

“Very easily. The French and Americans, always 
in heliographing, used to preface their messages with 
a certain secret letter for identification. That letter 
was Z. You will wonder how I came to know it, but 


116 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


I do, and that is enough. Do you know the Morse 
equivalent for the letter Z?” 

“Certainly. Two dashes and two dots.” 

“Right you are. Now, Mademoiselle Jaqueline, if 
I can flash two dashes and two dots to a French or 
American aviator before he gets out of line, he will 
know that a friend is signalling and he will make the 
rest easy for us.” 

“I think that you are right, and that you will suc- 
ceed. Perhaps you can send a message for me too, a 
message to my cousin. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if 
you should get into communication with a French 
plane, and find that the pilot was my cousin? I’d 
dearly love to go to the top of St. Martin’s belfry with 
you. I want to see you try it. Won’t you take me?” 

“With all the pleasure in the world. The fact is,” 
he added craftily, “you can really be of great help to me. 
I am going to drill a small round hole in the center of 
this flash mirror. When the tripods are put in position 
on the platform of the tower, I will squint through the 
hole at the sun mirror, and you will give the sun 
mirror the proper slant. We will be like a surveying 
party. I will be the transit man and you will be the 
man who holds up the measuring rod.” 

“I don’t care what I do as long as I am helping 
you,” declared Jaqueline with the sweetest of smiles. 

Father Max had learned one thing more about 
Jaqueline that morning. When she smiled, the very 
smallest, faintest dimple appeared in her left cheek. 


LOU VACS NEW CHIMNEY 


117 


Several times he purposely said things to cause her to 
smile, that he might watch for that fascinating dimple. 

It being now arranged that they should set out for 
St. Martin’s church immediately after the noon meal, 
the girl went away, and Father Max applied himself to 
the completion of his heliostat. He was in a very cheer- 
ful and happy state of mind. Jaqueline and he were 
bound together by a common cause, and were working 
for the same ends. He and she would be constantly 
thrown together. What would any man want more 
than that? The one and only girl had come into his 
life, and she was such a girl as any young clergyman 
who had red blood in his veins, who was a man’s man, 
would renounce the priesthood for. There was small 
chance that Father Max would retain for long his 
canonicals. 

At luncheon that day, or rather the French break- 
fast which takes the place of the English and American 
luncheon, Jaqueline, instead of Colette sat opposite, and 
gazed at Father Max across the table so kindly with 
her dark eyes that the young churchman almost forgot 
to eat. 

When the meal was over, Jaqueline donned a cloak 
and a heavy veil, Father Max detached the mirrors and 
their mountings from the tripods and gave them to 
Jaqueline, who put them in her knitting bag. Father 
Max folded up the tripods into bunches of sticks two 
feet long and four inches thick, put them beneath his 
cassock, one under each arm, and the man and girl set 
out for the church of St. Martin. 


118 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


They were admitted to the church through a small 
wooden door in the lower corner of one of the great, 
arched, bronze doors, by the sacristan, whose name was 
Anatole Bex. Anatole was a small, wiry, shriveled up 
old fellow of sixty-five. He had a fierce white mous- 
tache and but one eye, the other having been lost at 
the battle of Sedan, almost fifty years before. The 
sacristan received them cordially, but with an important 
air of mystery. Picking up two camp chairs from an 
aisle of the church, he led them into a large., square 
room to the right of the big doors. From a hole in the 
ceiling of this room dangled a rope, and upon one wall 
of the room there was a stairway. 

“This is the square, belfry tower/' he announced. 
“That is the stairway to the belfry, and this rope is the 
bell rope. I am taking these chairs, so that you can 
have something to sit upon when you get to the plat- 
form on top of the tower. Take a long breath now, for 
you have a climb of one hundred and twenty feet, more 
than one hundred and fifty steps, before you.'’ 

Saying this he led the way upstairs. When they 
had gone up about half the whole distance, they came 
to a small door in the wall next the body of the church. 

“This door/’ said Anatole Bex, “leads to a loft or 
air space between the vaulted ceiling of the church and 
the roof. There are three ventilators on each side of 
the ridge pole in this loft, going through the roof and 
letting in air and a certain amount of light. The loft 
extends the whole length of the church, a hundred feet 


LOUVACS NEW CHIMNEY 


119 


or more, and, at the other end of it there is a narrow 
pair of steps which goes down to the organ loft behind 
the pipes of the organ. I will unlock this door, and give 
you the key. It is the only key I have which fits the 
lock. You may be discovered signalling from the top 
of the tower, and they may come to arrest you. If 
there is the least sign of danger, I will begin to toll the 
bell. You must then at once run down to this door, 
taking all your traps with you, enter the loft and close 
and lock the door after you. You can then wait either 
in the loft or behind the organ pipes until the danger is 
past, when I will let you out of the church.” 

The sacristan took a large brass key from the keys 
hanging at his belt, unlocked the small door and gave 
the key to Father Max. When they had ascended 
thirty or forty more steps, they came to the belfry, 
where hung the great bronze bell, which was all of five 
feet high, and weighed the better part of a ton. Pass- 
ing up beyond the belfry and going through a scuttle, 
they at length reached the stone platform at the top of 
the tower. It was about eighteen feet square, and was 
surrounded by a stone, battlemented parapet, four feet 
high. The sacristan, Anatole Bex, first repeating his 
injunctions about the tolling of the bell and the little 
door, which led to the air space, now left his guests to 
their own devices and disappeared down the stairway. 

Their first thought was to look about them. The 
tower of St. Martin was the highest structure in Cam- 
brai, and from their present position they could look 


120 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


upon every point of the city, every roof and every 
street, and could see, beyond the walls of the town, the 
Scheldt river and the woods of Neuilly on the west and 
south and the great hills which surrounded the city to 
the north and east. Jaqueline leaned upon one of the 
merlons of the parapet, and gazed with rapture at the 
brilliant picture. It was as if a beautiful painting of 
many colors was unfolded at her feet, and she looked 
from one point to another, and indicated tq Father Max 
each well-known locality, each familiar building, or 
spot of interest. 

“You mustn’t stand and expose your person like 
that,” cautioned Father Max. “Some boche some- 
where will see you, and his suspicions will be aroused. 
Take this chair, sit down, and look through the em- 
brasures.” 

Jaqueline, obediently took the proffered chair, Fath- 
er Max sat down beside her, and they gazed for a long 
time in silence at the panorama spread before them. 

“This is about the pleasantest place I know of,” at 
length remarked the young man, “and the company is 
pleasanter than the place. I can’t imagine anything 
more agreeable than sitting upon the top of this five 
century old belfry with only you for a companion. 
When the war is over and France has come into her 
own, we must come here again. We will sit here in the 
early morning and we will sit here in the twilight, and 
we will think of the times when we came to heliograph 
an airship.” 


LOUVAC’S NEW CHIMNEY 


121 


“It isn’t at all likely. Who knows where you or I 
will be when the war is over? Without doubt we shall 
soon part, never to meet again.” 

‘‘Perish the thought. That would be worse than to 
have Germany win the war.” 

He said this with so much ardor, and he looked at 
her so caressingly that she blushed and cast down her 
eyes. She did not seem, however, to be at all angry 
with him. Father Max, as he gazed at the charming 
creature beside him, as he felt her close proximity, as 
he breathed the delicate aroma of her person, felt him- 
self slipping, slipping, slipping. He saw the abyss 
before him and knew that he would inevitably make the 
fatal plunge, yet he made not the slightest effort to 
draw back. The future of his career in the church at 
that moment had a black and dismal look. 

“I was thinking,” said Father Max, “how I would 
set about capturing this town, if I had plenty of guns 
and say fifty thousand French or American troops. In 
the first place I would attack the city from the north- 
east instead of the southwest, this latter being the direc- 
tion from which General Byng’s attack came last 
Autumn. Having hauled my guns to the tops of those 
big hills, I would first put those two outlying forts to 
the east and south out of business with my six-inch 
rifles, then I would level the walls of the town with my 
seventy-fives and, finally, advance my infantry under 
cover of a barrage, raking the streets with machine gun 
fire. Of course we would have a certain amount of 


122 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


trouble with snipers concealed in the upper stories of 
houses. The only way with those fellows is to rush 
them quickly and get at them by the back stairs.” 

“You seem to have an infinite knowledge of warfare, 
of artillery and infantry fighting. Where did you 
learn it all? Do they teach such things in the theo- 
logical seminaries?” 

“Hardly. Well, the truth of the matter is that I 
have a cousin who is a captain of artillery.” 

“How nice ! And I suppose that in his leisure mo- 
ments he taught you everything he knows about guns 
and all that sort of thing.” 

Jaqueline looked at him with a perfectly sober face, 
there was not even the smallest trace of that tell-tale 
dimple, yet it seemed to him that there was a small 
lurking imp of laughter in the depths of her dark eyes. 

Never an aeroplane did they see that morning. It 
wasn’t an aeroplane day at all. Even at the hangars 
across the river near the fort, which stood a mile to the 
northwest of the town, everything was quiet and mo- 
tionless. The hangar doors were shut, and a few white 
winged planes rested upon a field outside, as if they 
were great predatory birds asleep. 

Just for practice, Father Max and Jaqueline set up 
the two tripods, placed the mirrors in position, and 
threw a spot of light upon the inside wall of the parapet. 
To adjust the mirrors to the proper angle, Father Max 
squinted through the small, round hole in the flash 
mirror, while Jaqueline gave the sun mirror the right 
slant. 


LOUVACS NEW CHIMNEY 


123 


“I don’t dare flash our light upon any building in 
the town,” declared Father Max “or upon the fort over 
yonder. It would be giving our scheme away.” 

When they had proved the working qualities of 
their heliostat, they descended the long stairway of the 
tower and took their leave of the sacristan. 

“When will you come again?” she asked eagerly. 
“You mustn’t be discouraged at the lack of aeroplanes. 
Sometimes I see scores of them in the air at a time. 
Tomorrow there may be a dozen French, American or 
British planes circling about over the town.” 

“We will come at eight, o’clock tomorrow morning, 
and we will remain all day.” 

As Father Max said this, he looked at Jaqueline, 
but she gave no sign of dissent. 


CHAPTER IX 
“Vive la France !” 

When they returned to the bakery, Martin Louvac 
took Father Max to one side. 

“Colette was here this morning, “ said he, “and she 
seemed to be very angry when I told her that you and 
Jaqueline had gone off together. She mumbled some- 
thing to herself, and I think that she uttered a very 
naughty oath, but I may be mistaken. That girl is a 
dangerous girl, she has an ungovernable temper and is 
of a very jealous disposition. I would advise you to 
look out for yourself, for she is sure to make you 
trouble. In some way you have got her infatuated with 
you, for which I am extremely sorry. She has only to 
speak to one of her German officer friends, and it 
would be all day with you and perhaps with Jaqueline.” 

“ ‘You are wrong/ said I, ‘to concern yourself so 
mightily about a priest, a man in holy orders.’ 

“ ‘Pouf !’ she exclaimed, ‘you think that I know 
nothing. He is no more a priest than you are.’ 

“With that she flew off in a rage. Her mother was 
a vixenish, hoity-toity woman, and Colette comes nat- 
urally by her disposition. She has ever been a thorn in 
the side of the good Mou chard.” 

124 


“VIVE LA FRANCE !’ 


125 


“Good Lord!” exclaimed Father Max, when he 
had gone to his room. “That unfortunate kiss is a 
veritable Nemesis. Why, oh why, was I foolish enough 
to take it? How could I know though that it would 
have such consequences? How could I know that she 
was that kind of a girl ?” 

Jaqueline stayed for supper, and at nine o’clock, 
when it had grown dark, she prepared to set out for her 
return to the chateau. 

“I am going with you,” declared Father Max. “I 
am convinced that it is not safe for a girl to walk the 
streets of Cambrai at night. If I can have my way, 
you will never take the risk again.” 

The amiable look with which Jaqueline accepted the 
offer of his company filled him with the most pleasur- 
able emotions, and as he took her round arm, and they 
walked away together, the disturbing thought of Col- 
ette was banished from his mind. 

Jaqueline led him by the same roundabout and 
little frequented route which she had taken upon that 
night ten days ago when she had gone to seek the as- 
sistance of Martin Louvac. She now sought to impress 
upon the young man’s memory each passage, lane and 
turning, so that he would have no trouble in finding his 
way back to Martin Louvac’s house. 

When they had arrived at the little door in the back 
wall of the Keranec grounds, Jaqueline took a key from 
her knitting bag, unlocked the door and opened it. 
Father Max held the girl’s hand, as if to say “Good 


126 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


bye,” but lingered as if he was loath to say it. 

“Come into the grounds for a while,” said she, 
agreeably, noticing his reluctance to part with her. 
“There is a stone bench by the fountain where we can 
sit and talk over our plans.” 

It goes without saying that he did not need any 
urging. The main body of the chateau, that part which 
was occupied by the German General and his retainers 
was lighted from top to bottom, which showed that the 
usual nightly drink fest was in progress, and that the 
supply of Keranec wines was not yet exhausted. In the 
wing occupied by the old Countess Mathilde only one 
window, that window being upon the second floor, 
showed a light, and that light was a dim one. 

“That room with the light is the one occupied by the 
Countess,” said Jaqueline. “Poor old lady. She is 
doubtless keeping awake until I come in. She always 
does.” 

“Is she an invalid?” 

“Oh my, yes, she hasn’t left her bed in many, many 
months.” 

“Why didn’t she go with the rest of the family 
when they fled from the city?” 

“For two reasons. In the first place, she couldn’t 
stand the hardships of the journey. In the second place 
she wouldn’t go. She said that she would have to die 
somewhere, and when she died, she proposed to die in 
the old house where she was born and had always lived. 
She is in fact a very obstinate old lady. General Stoll- 


VIVE LA FRANCE !” 


127 


berg found that out to his cost when he tried to brow- 
beat her. She is at the same time very bright and 
smart, and above all she is a Frenchwoman. Her every 
thought is for France, and she wants to hear every bit 
of war news. I have to sit on the edge of her bed 
every night and tell her all that has happened, before 
she will go to sleep/’ 

“She must be a wonderful old lady. I would dearly 
like to make her acquaintance.” 

“And so you shall. I know that she is anxious to 
meet you also. You see, I have told her all about you, 
all about the pious young priest who thinks nothing of 
smashing three or four boche heads every morning be- 
fore breakfast. She has asked me a hundred questions 
about you. Anyone to hear her would think you a 
great and distinguished character. The first chance I 
get, I am going to take you up to see her. Sometimes, 
she is stronger than at others, and better able to see 
company. We shall have to wait for a favorable oppor- 
tunity.” 

Jaqueline looked at her wrist watch. 

“Dear me!” she exclaimed. “I really must go in. 
It is after ten, and I can’t keep the dear old soul waiting 
any longer. I will let you out, and lock the door.” 

“You needn’t do that, Jaqueline, because I’m not 
going just yet. I will sit here for half an hour to 
smoke my pipe. Then, I’ll climb that big apple tree 
which stands beside the door, get to the top of the wall, 
and drop down into the lane.” 


128 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Very well, take care not to hurt yourself when 
dropping from the wall and remember to follow exactly 
the route by which we came.” 

She gave him her white, shapely hand, and he bent 
over it and kissed it. Before he relinquished it, he gave 
it something of a squeeze, and was delighted to feel a 
quite perceptible pressure in return. After she had 
vanished up the tree and shrub-encumbered path, he 
lighted his pipe, and enjoyed himself by the contempla- 
tion of the structure which housed his adored one. The 
window next that one occupied by the Countess was 
after a while lighted up, and for a brief moment the 
profile of Jaqueline was silhouetted against the shade. 
He was so foolishly in love that he blew a kiss toward 
her, and called her many endearing names, just for the 
pleasure of hearing them. 

The next morning at eight o’clock, it being upon a 
Thursday, Father Max and Jaqueline again took their 
way to the church of St. Martin. This time, in addi- 
tion to the paraphernalia carried upon the previous day, 
they brought with them a good pair of field glasses, and 
a substantial luncheon. The sacristan, Anatole Bex, 
was more hearty in his greeting than upon the day be- 
fore, and insisted upon going up that interminable flight 
of stairs to the top of the belfry tower, and carrying 
their chairs and Jaqueline’s heavy knitting bag. 

“I wish you good luck today, my children,” said he, 
as he prepared to descend. “By giving you my small 
help, I try to make myself believe that I am taking a 


“VIVE LA FRANCE!’ 


129 


part in your enterprise, and that is what I want. Any 
man in France should be proud to serve under Made- 
moiselle Jaqueline. I know what she has accomplished 
for the cause. No girl in France has done more. Re 
member what I said about the tolling of the bell and the 
little door which leads to the air loft. Good-bye, my 
children.” 

When the sacristan had departed, Father Max and 
Jaqueline arranged their heliostat apparatus in proper 
shape, and then, seating themselves next the parapet, 
swept the horizon for aeroplanes with their field glasses. 

All the morning they waited for an allied aeroplane 
to appear, but none came. They saw plenty of German 
planes. Now and then one arose from the hangar 
grounds near the northwest fort, circled about above 
the city, made short flights of several miles to the south 
and west, and returned to the hangars. 

“How will you know a French or American plane, 
if one comes?” asked Jaqueline. 

“By the distinguishing marks upon it. Those 
German planes, as you see, have a black Maltese cross 
painted on the sides of the fuselage and on the ends of 
the upper and lower wings. The French use the red, 
white and blue stripes of the tricolor, the Americans a 
white star, with a blue bulks eye center, upon a round, 
red background. It will be difficult to distinguish the 
marks, if the plane is coming straight toward us. Some 
one should invent a way of marking an aeroplane in 
front.” 


9 


130 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


At noon, they brought out their luncheon, some bis- 
cuits, a cold chicken, and a thermos bottle of iced tea, 
and ate it in delightful companionship, with an accom- 
paniment of pleasant talk and laughter. 

“I would like to eat with you like this a thousand 
times,” remarked Father Max. “All food after this 
without you will be tasteless, stale, flat and unprofit- 
able.” 

“Of course, that can’t be. Our meals together 
will, of course, be few and far between.” 

“I suppose so. I was imagining for the moment 
that we were married, you and I, and that the top of 
this old tower was a part of our house.” 

“What a silly idea ! A minister of the church does 
not marry. Neither would any good Catholic French 
girl marry a priest. We have made quite a muss on 
the pavement with our crumbs. If I had a broom, I 
would sweep it up.” 

“I see that you are a most neat and excellent house- 
wife. I have noticed it before by reason of many little 
things which you have done, in your daily life.” 

“So you have been noticing me with the idea of 
finding out whether I would make a good housekeeper. 
That is a funny thing for a young priest to be cogitating 
about. You should think only of my religious welfare, 
and should be anxious solely as to my performance of 
the many duties imposed upon me by the Christian 
faith.” 

Late in the afternoon, Jaqueline pointed out to Fath- 


“VIVE LA FRANCE !” 


131 


er Max a tiny speck which had appeared in the sky way 
off to the southwest. 

“That may be a French or American plane/’ said 

she. 

Father Max took the glasses and leveled them at 
the approaching object for several minutes. 

“It’s an aeroplane, and a large one,” declared he. 
“Look and see what you can make of it. See if you 
can distinguish the emblem.” 

“Yes, I can see it now, and it resembles a star,” said 
she, after taking a long look through the glasses. “The 
machine isn’t coming directly toward us. It is going 
a little to the northwest, as if it were preparing to at- 
tack the German hangars. On account of its slight 
slant away from us, I can just get a view of the emblem, 
on the side of the fuselage. Yes, now I am certain. It 
surely is a star. But what a tremendous aeroplane! I 
never saw one so big.” 

“It is probably one of those great de Haviland fight- 
ing biplanes which the Yankees have been building. 
They have a wing spread of seventy feet, carry four 
men, a pilot, an observer, a machine gunner and a 
bomb thrower, they have a wireless set and several 
other things. It is surely an American aeroplane, so 
we had best get busy.” 

After Father Max had set the tripods in their proper 
places, so that the sun mirror received the sun’s rays 
and threw them back to the flash mirror which, in turn, 
faced the oncoming aeroplane, hef squinted through the 


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MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


small, round hole in the center of the flash mirror and 
instructed Jaqueline so that she gave the correct slant 
to the sun mirror. When everything was arranged sat- 
isfactorily, he commenced to signal by moving the card- 
board screen of the flash mirror, and letting it snap 
back into place; “dash, dash, dot, dot,” he called, “dash, 
dash, dot, dot.” 

Twenty times he gave the flashes which spelled the 
letter Z. But, so far, his signalling had no apparent 
effect. It was like the unheeded S. O. S. wireless call 
of a ship in peril. Furthermore, with every passing ten 
seconds, it was necessary to move the tripods and 
change the slant of the mirrors in order to accommo- 
date them to the aeroplane's changing position. 

All at once, the approaching plane seemed to alter 
the course of its flight. It was now boring directly 
toward the tower of St. Martin’s church. 

“Hurrah!” exclaimed Father Max. “They have 
made out my signal, and are coming for us in the 
straightest kind of a bee line. Now for my message 
to the Allies. It will be child’s play from now on.” 

Father Max commenced to work the cardboard 
screen up and down with wonderful rapidity, his fin- 
gers seemed to fly with the swiftness of lightning. To 
all appearances he was an expert telegrapher, and 
Jaqueline regarded him with astonishment and admira- 
tion. In two minutes he had told the occupants of the 
coming aeroplane a great deal about the number, qual- 
ity and disposition of the German fighting troops and 


VIVE LA FRANCE ! ! 


133 


the German reserves, had given valuable information 
about the movement and concentration of troops, and 
had signalled the location of important munition de- 
pots and aviation fields. 

The plane was now within two or three miles of 
them, so close, in fact, that Jaqueline with her field 
glasses could see the flash from the heliostat playing 
upon the nose of it. Presently, it veered off toward the 
German aviation field, and she got a good full view of 
the emblem upon the side of the fuselage. 

“Why, Father Max,” she exclaimed, “that isn’t a 
star after all. It’s a Maltese cross. We had only an 
oblique view of it, before they turned and came straight 
toward us, and it did look like a star.” 

Father Max seized the glasses and leveled them 
excitedly at the aeroplane. 

“Great guns! You’re right,” he cried. “That’s a 
German plane, and I’ve been giving them all this time 
information about themselves. They are aware of our 
blunder, of course, and will move heaven and earth to 
get hold of us. We are in for it, and must escape from 
the church just as quickly as we can. They will alight 
in the aviation fields, and will probably telephone head- 
quarters to arrest us.” 

With all haste possible, they dismantled the helio- 
stat. Jaqueline put the mirrors in her bag, and Father 
Max, folding up the tripods and the camp chairs, led 
the way to the stair opening. At that moment the deep 
boom of the monster bell in the belfry came to their 


134 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


ears, and they felt the tower itself tremble with its 
vibrations. 

“That’s the sacristan’s/ warning,” cried Father Max. 
“The soldiers sent to seize us must be already at the 
church door. I had forgotten the wireless. They must 
have sent a marconigram from the aeroplane, while yet 
it was miles away. We must move quickly to get in- 
side the air loft before the Germans reach the little door 
in the wall. Come Jaqueline.” 

He helped her through the scuttle hole to the first 
steps of the stairs, and going through himself, shut the 
trap. As they raced down through the belfry, the 
great bell boomed forth again with such volume of 
sound that it deafened them, Jaqueline being so startled 
that she would have fallen from the stair, had not 
Father Max put his arm about her. Down the remain- 
ing stairs they fled, and arriving at the small door in 
the wall, they opened it and plunged through the door- 
way. Just as they had closed and locked the door, they 
heard the sound of many heavy feet rushing past them 
up the stairs. 

“We must go through the loft to the further end 
of the building at once,” declared Father Max. “Per- 
haps we can descend to the floor of the church, and get 
out into the street, before they come down from the 
tower.” 

Besides the accumulated dust of centuries, the loft 
contained a quantity of all sorts of rubbish which had 
been stowed there at different epochs. Besides this, the 


'VIVE LA FRANCE !” 


135 


light from the roof ventilators was dim, so that their 
progress was slow. At last they came to the further 
end of it and to the narrow stair, more a ladder than a 
stair, which led down to the organ loft. When they 
reached the organ loft, and peered through the spaces 
between the pipes, they found that they were too late for, 
at that moment, a number of German soldiers, led by a 
lieutenant, clattered down the lower stairs, and streamed 
forth into the nave of the church. Before them, stood 
the sacristan, Anatole Bex. Upon his face was a 
grieved look of astonishment and inquiry. 

“There were spies upon the platform at the top of 
the tower not a quarter hour ago,” cried the lieutenant, 
angrily, “who were they, and where have they gone?” 

“I know of no spies,” declared the sacristan. “No 
one but myself has gone up into the tower today.” 

“You are sure of that, are you, you old swine? 1 
tell you that some one was heliographing from the 
tower, and that within the hour. Tell the truth now, or 
I will have you shot.” 

“There has been no one on the tower platform to- 
day,” affirmed Anatole Bex, calmly and stolidly. 

“Sacristan Bex, you lie. Tell me who dropped 
these bread crumbs upon the platform. They are fresh, 
and show that someone was eating there this very 
hour.” 

He held forth his fist, opened it, and showed a 
quantity of bread crumbs. 

“I ate my luncheon at the top of the tower this 


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MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


noon/’ explained the old man, glibly. “I went up there 
to get the air.” 

“Why were you tolling the bell?” 

“I was tolling the bell for old Father Duprez who 
is buried today.” 

“You lie again, you swine pig. I will give you one 
more chance. I will count three. If by then, you have 
not confessed, you will be shot.” 

“Take aim,” he ordered his men. “Fire when I say 
‘three.’ ” 

“One,” he cried. 

The staunch old veteran squared his shoulders, 
drew himself up to his full height and looked straight 
in front of him with an unflinching eye. as if he were 
on dress parade. 

“Two,” said the lieutenant. 

“Vive la France!” shouted Anatole Bex, with all 
the power of his lungs. 

“Three,” yelled the lieutenant. 

The dozen rifles crashed simultaneously, and the 
old warrior fell to the pavement dead. 


CHAPTER X 
Visiting the Countess 


Jaqueline pressed closely to Father Max, put her 
arms across his shoulders, her head upon his breast, and 
sobbed inaudibly. 

“There, there, child,” he whispered, consolingly, 
“don’t grieve so hardly. He would have chosen that 
way to die. There are millions of men like him in 
France. For that reason France is unconquerable and 
will ever be unconquerable.” 

The sergeant in command of the squad of soldiers 
came to the body of the sacristan, and prodded it with 
his boot. 

“What shall we do with him?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” answered the lieutenant, “let the dog 
lie there until his masters find him. We can’t bother 
with every corpse we make. I must go to the prefect 
of police and to the Adjutant General and make my 
report. You will follow me with your men.” 

The lieutenant marched toward the church door. 
The sergeant got his men together into column and 
followed him. Father Max and Jaqueline heard the 
door open and shut. Then all was silent again in the 
great church. 


137 


138 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“They’ve gone at last,” said Jaqueline, with a sigh 
of deep relief. “Oh, let us leave this dreadful place at 
once.” 

They started to go down the stairs to the floor of 
the church, but Father Max presently held back. 

“I have a queer sort of presentiment that things are 
not just right,” said he. “The lieutenant spoke too 
loudly when he ordered the sergeant to follow with his 
men. Did you notice it?” 

“Yes, I wondered why he shouted at them so.” 

“What do you deduce from the loudness of his 
voice?” 

“Nothing in particular. What do you mean?” 

“It had to me a look of camouflage. It looked to 
me as if he thought that his quarry was still hiding in 
the church, and he spoke loudly so that his voice might 
reach them. He wants us to think that he and his men 
have all left the church. It’s a trap, for some of them 
are undoubtedly waiting for us down by the door. You 
stop where you are, and I’ll go down and reconnoiter.” 

He stole down the stairs without making so much 
as a creak, and stealthily wormed his way toward the 
vestibule, keeping all the while a thick, fluted stone 
column between him and the door. He was like an 
Indian following a trail in the midst of enemies, or a 
panther stalking his prey. When he gained the shelter 
of the column, he cautiously peered beyond it. He had 
been right. In the dark recess, formed by two thick 
pilasters, near the great bronze door, stood a soldier 
with rifle in hand, grim, alert and watchful. 


VISITING THE COUNTESS 


139 


After pondering for several moments, Father Max 
raised one of the folded tripods which he was carrying 
beneath his cassock, and threw it to the foot of the 
stairs whence he had come, where it fell with a great 
clatter. The guard by the door, immediately roused to 
action, rushed hot foot toward the scene of the disturb- 
ance. As he passed the pillar where Father Max stood, 
the clergyman brought the edge of the round oak plate 
of the second tripod down upon his skull, and the fellow 
fell to the pavement as if he were a sack of meal. 

Other heavy footsteps sounded, and a second sol- 
dier, who had been stationed on the opposite side of the 
vestibule, ran forward to the aid of his comrade. Fath- 
er Max snatched up the fallen man’s rifle, and firing 
from the hip stretched his new adversary upon the floor 
as dead as a mackerel. With that the small outside 
door of the church flew open, and two more men en- 
tered, one of them closing the door after him. When 
they were half way across the vestibule, Father Max 
raised the rifle and fired twice, once at each soldier, 
and got them both. Of course he took aim at them, 
but it didn’t seem like it. He was like a crack pigeon 
shooter bringing down two clay pigeons, one with each 
barrel. 

Father Max waited a while, in order to give a 
proper reception to further antagonists, if there were 
any. As none came, and as all was silent and peaceful, 
he was about to go up to the organ loft to bring 
Jaqueline down. At that moment, there came the sound 


140 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


of quick, pattering footsteps from the stairway, there 
was a swish and flutter of skirts, the swift rush of a 
feminine form, and Jaqueline’s body was upon the 
priest’s breast and her hands upon his shoulders. 

“Did they shoot you? Are you hurt?” she de- 
manded, in broken, incoherent tones. 

“No, not a bit of it. I’m all right. The trouble is 
with the other fellows. They are the ones who are 
shot. Would you really be so sorry if I were hurt, 
Jaqueline?” 

“Of course I would,” answered she, taking her 
hands from his shoulders, “how could I get out of this 
horrid church without you? I wouldn’t dare put my 
nose out of the door. What a shambles you have made 
of the place ! Do you really mean to say that you have 
killed all those soldiers?” 

“No, one of them, the one I hit with the tripod, 
seems to be still alive. The other three I am afraid are 
done for. You see I picked up the first chap’s gun and 
let fly three times. Somehow these last three got right 
in front of the gun as I fired, and were bowled out. It 
wasn’t my fault.” 

“Father Max, you are spoofing me, as the English 
say. Father Max, the more I look at you, the more I 
see you in action, the more my wonder grows. You 
seem to be adept at everything. You know all about 
aeroplanes, heliostats and telegraphy, you are a dead 
shot, and you knock a man down as if he were a scare- 
crow stuffed with straw. Where did you learn all 


VISITING THE COUNTESS 


141 


these things? I suppose it was at the theological sem- 
inary, where you got your knowledge of infantry, ar- 
tillery and fortifications.” 

“I didn’t say that I learned about it at the sem- 
inary.” 

“That’s so. I forgot. You learned it of a cousin 
who is a captain of artillery. I suppose you have an- 
other cousin who is an athletic instructor and still an- 
other who runs a shooting gallery. Father Max, when 
you took holy orders, you missed your vocation. You 
should have gone into the moving pictures, where the 
hero tackles a dozen bandits, and knocks them about 
like ten pins, leaps from the ground to the back of a 
galloping horse, or climbs the outsicle of a ten-story 
building.” 

“Now, Jaqueline, you are spoofing me. This is no 
time for such nonsense. We must get out of here and 
into a place of safety at once. At any time, that lieu- 
tenant may come back with reinforcements. I will 
look around a bit.” 

Now Jaqueline had been all this time at the point 
of collapsing, but had held herself together bravely, 
and had assumed a tone and manner of jest and badin- 
age to conceal her real feelings. By doing this she had 
fooled not only Father Max, but herself, and she was 
the better for it. 

He went to the door, opened it a few inches, and 
poked his nose through the crack. The street was 
quiet and almost deserted, an old woman was going in 


142 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


one direction, and a boy in the other. Evidently the 
noise of the rifle shots had not been heard outside the 
church, or if heard, had not provoked curiosity. Rifle 
shots were common in Cambrai at that time, and it was 
not wise to inquire too closely about them. 

“Come, Jaqueline,” he called. “There is no one 
about, and now is the time to slip away.” 

She came to him, he let her out of the door, and 
going out himself, closed it after him. They walked at 
first slowly and calmly, though fearing at every mo- 
ment pursuit and capture. When they had turned a 
corner, they hastened their footsteps almost to a run, 
and so came at length to the bake shop of Martin 
Louvac. 

At the first opportunity Father Max took the baker 
aside and gave him a history of the momentous hap- 
penings of the day. 

“I am sorry,” said Martin Louvac, “that your enter- 
prise has failed. I was doubtful of its success from the 
first. I am deeply grieved, too, at the death of the good 
Anatole Bex. He gave his life for the cause, as all of 
us are ready to do. What worthier death is there for 
a Frenchman? The Germans will make a rigid in- 
quiry, and will move heaven and earth to find you. I 
think, though, that you are perfectly safe. The worst 
of it is that they will now be certain of the existence in 
their midst of French scheming and spying, which will 
curb our activities to a certain extent. They will end 
probably by shooting half a dozen inoffensive people 


VISITING THE COUNTESS 


143 


and by imposing a fine of a million francs upon the city. 
They always do that at the slightest provocation.” 

Saturday afternoon Jaqueline brought word to 
Father Max that the Countess de Keranec would see 
him at eight o’clock that night. Upon the appointed 
hour, therefore, he came to the door in the rear wall of 
the chateau grounds, and being admitted by Jaqueline, 
was taken to the salon or drawing room of the wing 
where the Countess resided. 

“I will go up and find if she is ready to see you,” 
said Jaqueline. 

She went up stairs and, in the space of two minutes 
came tripping down again. 

“She will be ready in five minutes,” announced the 
girl, “meanwhile, I have to go to the kitchen to mull 
some claret. The Countess always wants it before 
going to sleep. When she is ready to receive you, 
Rachael, the housekeeper, will come down and tell you. 
If I am not back here by that time, you can go right up 
with Rachael.” 

After a wait of several minutes, the housekeeeper, 
a stout, rugged featured, sour looking woman of sixty, 
came to the door of the salon, and bade Father Max 
follow her. Ascending one flight of stairs, he was 
shown into a large apartment which was dimly lighted 
by a single incandescent lamp. The Countess’ bed stood 
in the shadow of an alcove, and Father Max was not 
aware of the old lady’s presence until she spoke to him. 

“Ah, Father Max, it is you, is it? I am glad to 


144 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


see you. Take a chair, no, not that one, the one by the 
table, so that the light will fall on your face.” 

He looked in the direction whence the thin, quaver- 
ing voice had come, and made out with some trouble 
the outlines of the Countess’ head and body. The bed 
clothes were drawn up to her chin, her white hair was 
surmounted by a whiter night cap, and her piercing 
black eyes looked out at him from behind a pair of 
large spectacles. 

“You are not a bad looking young man,” continued 
*he Countess. “Jaqueline told me that you were pas- 
sably good looking, but we must take a girl’s opinion 
on such subjects with all due allowance. Jaqueline has 
been shut up here with me for a long, long time, she 
has seen few men at close quarters, and is likely to 
overestimate their good points. For one reason I am 
glad that you are a clergyman. You will not be likely 
to make love to Jaqueline. Every man who has come 
here during the last four years has made love to her. It 
was a great nuisance. Now that I think of it, there was 
once a priest who made love to her, but I quickly sent 
him about his business. Remember that. Do you hear 
that faint sound of carousing, of shouting and swearing 
which comes to us through the partition? That’s old 
Stollberg and his friends and retainers making merry 
with our vintage wines, the famous wines of Keranec. 
Every night I have to listen to that horrid din. He 
forced me out of the main part of the chateau, the house 
where I was born, and where my grandparents were 


VISITING THE COUNTESS 


145 


born, and I must get along as best I can in this poor 
wing of the castle. Do you know what I would do if 
I had my way ? I would plant a bomb shell in the cellar 
of the chateau, and blow them all to that place which 
usually is not mentioned in polite society. I would be 
willing to go up with them if it were necessary. Father 
Max, if the devil was offered a dozen of the most hor- 
rible scoundrels on the one hand, and General Hugo 
Baron von Stollberg on the other, he would take Stoll- 
berg. There is only one man in the world whom I hate 
more than von Stollberg and that man is the Kaiser, 
that monstrous murderer, the man whose every breath 
is a crime, and who hourly insults God with his hypoc- 
ricies. When he is dethroned, which is as certain as 
death and taxes, I am going to get up out of this bed, 
and dance a pas seul to the music of the Sylvia ballet. 
If we were the equals of the Germans in cruelty, we 
would tear his flesh with red hot pincers, and boil him 
in oil. As, however, we are Frenchmen and good 
Christians, we will content ourselves by putting Wil- 
liam Hohenzollern, his six sons and all his grandsons 
upon Devil’s Island, that! place where they imprisoned 
poor Dreyfus. Where is that Jaqueline? I sent her to 
mull me some claret a quarter hour ago. Father Max, 
please touch me that bell upon the table. It will bring 
Rachael here and I will send her after Jaqueline.” 

Father Max rang the bell, and presently Rachael 
appeared. 

“Rachael,” commanded the Countess, “show Father 

10 


146 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


Max down to the salon, then go to the kitchen, and see 
what Jaqueline is about. A quarter of an hour ago 
she went for my. claret/’ 

Father Max, somewhat put out by this abrupt dis- 
missal, said good evening to the old lady, and followed 
Rachael down to the salon. In a few minutes, Jaqueline 
came up stairs, bringing a pitcher of wine, and stopped 
in the doorway. 

“You made the Countess a rather short visit,” said 
she, “what did you say to her?” 

“I said nothing at all. I didn’t get the chance. She 
did all the talking.” 

“That is too bad,” sympathized Jaqueline. “Some- 
times she is like that. Wait a minute, till I take the old 
lady her nightly beverage and I will go out with you to 
our stone bench beside the fountain. I have a lot to 
say to you.” 

Jaqueline went up stairs, and presently came down 
again. Father Max very willingly followed her out of 
the house and down through the grounds to the marble 
settee which they had occupied a few nights before. It 
was a beautiful July night, just warm enough and just 
cool enough, the gentle breezes whispered in the foliage 
of the trees, the stars decked the blue vault above them, 
and hundreds of fireflies flashed their tiny lamps in the 
darkness all about. 

“I wanted to tell you,” said Jaqueline, “how sorry 
I am that your plan for sending information to our 
friends has come to naught. I can see that you are 


VISITING THE COUNTESS 


147 


worrying about your failure. You mustn’t be discour- 
aged. There are other ways of communicating with 
them.” 

“I can think of none at present, Jaqueline.” 

“I have a sure and certain means, one which I have 
employed more than once. It has one drawback, I 
cannot use it very often.” 

“What possible method have you? Do you mean 
to tell me that you have sent messages recently to the 
allied armies?” 

“I certainly have. When I get another chance, I 
will send your message with mine. Do you remember 
the doves which Jean brought to the chateau about ten 
days ago?” 

“Yes, of course. Jaqueline, I begin to understand. 
Those doves were carrier pigeons. How stupid I was 
not to think of it ! The confounded little rascal Jean ! 
He imposed upon me nicely with his cockalorum story 
about going for a pair of rabbits. If I had him here, 
I’d take him across my knee, and give him the soundest 
spanking he ever had.” 

“I wouldn’t like you to do that. It would hurt me 
very much. He had his orders you see, and kept a 
close mouth.” 

“But where did he get the pigeons? They must 
have come from the French or American lines. Other- 
wise they wouldn’t fly back when released.” 

“They are brought to a certain place once in so 
often by aeroplane. I expect some more now in a few 
days. Then we will send our messages.” 


148 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Jaqueline, y 0 u are a wonderful girl. You make 
me feel quite unimportant and useless. By the by, 
where is Jean? I haven’t laid eyes on him since that 
night he took me to the hotel of Pierre Mouchard, ex- 
cepting when I saw him one morning leaving the house 
of Martin Louvac.” 

“Oh, he is about the premises somewhere. He was 
in the kitchen tonight when I was there.” 

“I suppose you don’t care to tell me the name of 
the aviator who brings the pigeons? I think though 
that I know who he is. It’s that cousin of yours who 
is in the French flying corps.” 

“I’m not saying whether it is or not. Now listen. 
I have information to the effect that there will be a 
meeting of the German high command in a very few 
days to decide upon the time and place of the next great 
German offensive. How would you like to know the 
result of their deliberations, as soon as they come to a 
decision?” 

“How would I like to know it? Why Jaqueline, 
I’d give everything I have in the world to know it. If 
I knew where and when their next great offensive was 
coming and could get word of it to our forces, it would 
win the war for us. Of course, though, such a thing is 
impossible.” 

“Not a bit of it. It will be quite easy to discover 
their plans. Where do you suppose they are going to 
hold this German war council?” 

“I have no idea, in Bruges, or Ghent, perhaps at 
Lille.” 


VISITING THE COUNTESS 


149 


“Not at all. The council will be held right here in 
Cambrai. Furthermore, the Keranec chateau, {that 
building before you will be the meeting place/' 

“Impossible. What makes you think so? How did 
you get your information?" 

“I got my information by listening to General von 
Stollberg and his brother officers. There is a secret 
sliding panel which connects our wing with the main 
body of the chateau. This panel gives access to the 
bookcase balcony of the great salon, the apartment 
which General Stollberg uses for all official business. 
I have lain snugly in this balcony concealed by the balus- 
trade, and listened to their plans more than once, I can 
tell you. Count Victor de Keranec conceived the idea 
of this sliding panel before he left Cambrai for the 
front. He had an idea that it would prove useful, but 
he little imagined how useful. In three or four days 
this meeting of the high command will be held in the 
grand salon of the chateau. There will be present 
Ludendorf, Hindenburg, Von Holzendorf, the German 
Crown Prince, Prince Rupprecht, perhaps the All High- 
est himself. I hereby invite you to attend the meeting 
with me. I can't offer you very good accommodations. 
We will have to lie on the floor of the balcony between 
the bookcases, but it is a fine place from which to hear 
and see everything." 

“Jaqueline, I accept your invitation with pleasure. 
I would willingly stand on my head all the time of the 
conference, if I could only be among those present. Do 
you know just when it comes off?" 


150 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“No, but I expect to find out in a day or two. Also, 
I want you to come upstairs with me tomorrow or next 
day, and look over the premised. Tomorrow is Sunday. 
Suppose we make it Monday afternoon. I will open the 
panel, and you can take a glance into the salon. I must 
leave you now. It is ten o’clock, and the Countess will 
want to see me before she goes to sleep.” 

As Jaqueline was letting Father Max out of the 
door in the garden wall, he suddenly put his arm about 
her waist, drew her to him, and kissed her upon the 
mouth. It was a sudden impulse, she was so close to 
him, she was so pretty, and she looked so sweet and 
amiable that he couldn’t help it. 

“How dare you ?” she asked, angrily, starting away 
from his embrace. “How can you affront me like that? 
I see that I have been mistaken in you. I thought that 
you were different, but you are like all the rest. Some 
young clergymen make a practice of going around and 
kissing every girl they meet, and I see that you are 
one of them. I’ll warrant that you have kissed an awful 
lot of girls. I would be willing to wager that you have 
kissed that Colette Mouchard. Ah, you don’t deny it, 
which shows that I am right. How many times have 
you kissed her ?” 

“Only once, and I was ashamed of it right after- 
ward.” 

“I should think you would be. The worst of it is 
that you should have the effrontery to kiss Colette, and 
then come and kiss me. I can’t get over that. You 
have made me very, very angry.” 


VISITING THE COUNTESS 


151 


Jaqueline’s cheek was pink ancT her dark eyes 
sparkled. Outside of these symptoms, however, she 
gave no signs of being in such a very great rage. 
Father Max, wishing Jaqueline to think that he thought 
that she was as angry as she said, assumed a contrite 
manner as he said good night, but all the same, he gave 
her hand a very loving squeeze. 


CHAPTER XI 
Zellner's Kultur 

Monday afternoon, as Father Max was getting 
ready to keep his appointment with Jaqueline, Colette 
Mouchard came again to the bakery. He chanced to 
look out of his window just as she came to the door, 
and as she was the last person he wished to see at that 
particular time, he kept to his rooms, hoping that she 
would go away. Presently, he heard her well-known 
steps coming up the stairs, and darting out of his door- 
way he entered another chamber nearby, and concealed 
himself behind the door. He heard her go into his 
apartment, and taking advantage of the opportunity, 
slipped from his hiding place, stole down the stairs, and 
made his exit from the rear door of the bake shop into 
the lane. Here he found Martin Louvac busily engaged 
in unloading ten bags of cement from a truck. 

“My cement has come,” said Louvac. “Le bon 
Dieu will now permit me to construct the base of my 
chimney and lay the bricks. As you see, I now have 
the cement, the sand and the mortar box. Tomorrow I 
shall mix the cement and fill the flask for the chimney 
base.” 

“I would suggest,” said Father Max, “that you put 


152 


ZELLNER’S KULTUR 


153 


some records or relics under the base, as they do when 
laying the corner stone of important buildings, some- 
thing which will astonish the people when they come to 
tear your chimney down a hundred years from now.” 

“I may decide to follow your suggestion,” said 
Louvac. 

Just then, Father Max chanced to look up to his 
window and, as he saw Colette standing there and re- 
garding him, he hastened away. After he was out of 
sight, Colette came down into the lane and spoke to 
Louvac. 

“Where has Father Max gone?” she asked. 

“He has gone to the Keranec place,” answered 
Louvac. 

The girl turned away without a word, and went 
toward her house, the baker shook his head. 

“She has an ugly look,” thought he. “I must warn 
Father Max and Jaqueline again.” 

When Father Max came to the Keranec garden 
wall, and was admitted to the grounds by Jaqueline, he 
found her as amiable and smiling as ever. She had 
forgotten the kiss, or, at least, had forgotten to be 
angry about it. 

When she had taken him into the wing of the 
chateau occupied by the Countess, and had led him up- 
stairs and along the corridor to the chamber of the slid- 
ing panel, she put her eye to a small gimlet hole which 
she had made through the wainscotting. 

“I always look first before opening the panel,” said 


154 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


she, “to see if anyone is in the balcony. There is no 
one there, so here goes.” 

She pushed upon a certain part of the moulding, 
the sliding square of woodwork glided back, and Father 
Max found himself looking into the balcony of the big 
salon and into the salon itself. Things were very dull 
there. Nothing was doing. The bulky form of Gen- 
eral von Stollberg sat at the head of the long oaken 
center table with his head lying back upon the top of his 
cushioned chair. A bottle and a glass stood beside him, 
his eyes were closed, and he was evidently taking forty 
winks. An orderly, standing at the door to the vesti- 
bule was the only other person in the room. 

“Suppose now,” said Father Max, “that you and I 
are lying concealed on the floor of the balcony over yon- 
der behind the balustrade, and suppose that during the 
conference of the high command, someone takes it into 
his head to come up either of those two stairways after 
a book, or for some other purpose. What would we do 
then ?” 

“I don’t know. I have never thought of the pos- 
sibility.” 

“We wouldn’t be able to escape through the sliding 
panel in time. We might get through, but they would 
be right at our heels and would discover the panel. Of 
course that would be equivalent to a firing squad. I 
would have to head your pursuers off until you had got 
through the opening unseen and were in safety. That 
is the only thing to do. Are there any doors under the 
balcony leading to the back part of the chateau?” 


ZELLNER’S KULTUR 


155 


“Yes, there are two. The one on this side leads to 
a smoking room, hack of the smoking room is the bil- 
liard room, the billiard room windows look out upon 
the grounds, or rather upon a small space shut off from 
the grounds by a high board fence. The door on the 
further side of the salon under the balcony leads to the 
dining room, the kitchen and the scullery. ,, 

“Very well, I will bear your description in mind. 
If anything happens such as I spoke of, you will at 
once escape through this panel opening. I will distract 
the attention of our enemies until you are out of dan- 
ger, then, probably, I will drop down to the floor of the 
salon, and make my getaway through the smoking and 
billiard rooms. I will dress in civilian clothes, too, and 
there will be nothing in my appearance to connect me 
with you or the Keranec family.” 

This plan being settled upon, Jaqueline shut the 
sliding panel, and they went down stairs to that apart- 
ment of the wing which was used as a parlor or sitting 
room. 

“Wait a minute, Father Max,” said Jaqueline, “and 
I will go back with you to Martin Louvac’s house. I 
promised Mama Louvac that I would take supper with 
them tonight. I must go up to the Countess for a 
moment or two.” 

When Jaqueline came back from the Countess' 
room, she and Father Max went down through the 
grounds and let themselves out of the gate in the gar- 
den wall. In passing through the grounds of the 


156 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


chateau in the day time, Jaqueline now always kept near 
the right hand wall, where there was an alley, or path, 
completely hidden by a row of trees and shrubs. In 
this way, for the most part, she had escaped the observa- 
tion of Stollberg and his satellites, and Father Max had 
not been seen by them at all. 

When Martin Louvac, Madam Louvac, Jaqueline 
and Father Max sat down to supper that night, Father 
Max looked across the table at Jaqueline, and found 
the light in her dark eyes so compelling, the smile upon 
her lovely face so sweet and kindly that he couldn’t take 
his eyes off her. Martin Louvac winked at Mama 
Louvac more than once, but neither Father Max nor 
Jaqueline saw it. 

After supper when it was nine o’clock, and when 
Mama Louvac and Jaqueline had put away the provi- 
sions and washed the china, and Martin Louvac had 
fixed the shutters up in front of the bake shop, they sat 
down around the dining room table and played bezique. 
After they had played an hour or more, Martin Louvac, 
whose impatience had steadily mounted, flung his hand 
upon the table, disgustedly. 

“It is impossible for four persons to play bezique,” 
said he, “when two of them are all the time thinking of 
something else.” 

Jaqueline now began to make preparations for her 
return to the chateau. 

“You are not going all that way tonight,” declared 
Mama Louvac. “I will insist that you stay here. You 
can go home the first thing in the morning.” 


ZELLNER’S KULTUR 


157 


“No, I must go tonight,” asserted Jaqueline, firmly. 
“Rachael, the housekeeper is sick, she will go to bed 
early, and there will be no one there to wait on the 
Countess. The Countess always wants something to 
eat at twelve or one o’clock in the night.” 

“If you are going, Jaqueline, I will of course go 
with you,” said Father Max. 

Saying this, he went upstairs to his rooms to get his 
cassock and hat. It must not be supposed that Father 
Max was in the habit of wearing his clerical garments 
continually. If he meant to remain indoors for any 
length of time, he took off his long black cassock, and 
appeared in a much worn coat of gray, or a shamefully 
frayed and soiled smoking jacket, both of which articles 
of clothing were the property of the good Louvac. 

His cassock was not upon the chair where he had 
placed it upon his return to the bake shop that after- 
noon, and lie prospected about the two chambers of 
his suite in search of it. At last he opened his closet 
door, and found it hanging to a hook with a coat hanger. 
Mama Louvac had evidently brushed it carefully and 
hung it up before getting supper. Just at that moment 
he heard the sound of a motor car coming through the 
lane back of the bakery and stopping at the bakery door. 
After he had put on his cassock, he went to the window 
of his sitting room which looked out upon the lane, and 
glanced down at the car. It was a closed car and was 
empty. The driver had evidently gone into the shop. 
He thought the occurrence very strange. He had often 


158 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


seen motor cars come to the front entrance of the bak- 
ery, but never had he seen one in the alleyway back of 
the building. 

“The man must have come to the front,” thought 
he, “and finding the shutters up and the door locked, he 
drove around to the rear entrance.” 

Just then there came from the floor beneath him the 
noise of scuffling, of the knocking about of furniture 
and the fall of a heavy body. “Help, help,” cried an 
agonized voice which he knew was Jaqueline’s. With 
one bound he was at the top of the stairway. Hardly 
touching the steps, he leaped to the bottom of it. When 
he looked through the kitchen into the shop, a fearful 
sight met his eye. Martin Louvac lay upon the floor 
either stunned or dead, his wife lay back in a chair 
where she had fainted, and Jaqueline was struggling in 
the arms of a tall, stoutly built German officer, who 
wore a white shoulder cape, a pomponed kepi, a sabre- 
tasche and high boots, and who was plainly trying to 
drag her through the kitchen to the waiting car. 

Father Max came behind him without attracting his 
notice, and stretching his arms to full length, grasped 
the man’s neck with both muscular hands, sinking his 
fingers into that part of the throat where the Adam’s 
apple was if he had one. 

In a moment the officer loosened his hold of the girl, 
and she sank to the floor in front of him, then he seized 
his assailant’s wrists with both hands, and strove fran- 
tically to wrench away that murderous grip. It was all 


ZELLNER'S KULTUR 


159 


in vain. He might just as well have tried to pry open a 
two hundred pound blacksmith’s vise with his fingers. 
He strove to twist about, but those relentless hands held 
him immovably in that one position. He began to gasp 
and to shudder. His eyes goggled from his head, his 
face turned purple, and a convulsive tremor shook his 
frame. Then he became limp and inert. After Father 
Max had held him a few moments longer for luck and 
safety’s sake, he unclenched his fingers, and the man 
slipped to the floor, to all appearances lifeless. 

Jaqueline was sitting up, her glorious hair had come 
down upon her shoulders, her usually pale face was 
filled with color from the effect of her exertions, and 
there was a smile of joy and gratitude upon her fea- 
tures, as she saw Father Max bending over her. He 
lifted her up tenderly, put her in a chair, and fetched her 
a glass of water. 

'‘Don’t mind me,” she said, “look after Papa and 
Mama Lou vac. They need you more than I. That 
villain came behind Papa Louvac, and struck him on 
the head with the butt of a pistol. Mama Louvac has 
only fainted.” 

Martin Louvac and his wife had both by this time 
regained consciousness. Louvac was sitting up on the 
floor, rubbing his head and looking about groggily. 

“What was it?” he asked. “I had just caught 
sight of that German devil out of the corner of my eye, 
when something hit me.” 

“It was he who hit you with the butt of his pistol,” 


160 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


answered Father Max. '‘He won’t hit anyone else for 
some time.” 

“If I had seen him first,” declared Louvac, “it 
would have been different. However, I see that you 
have fully attended to the animal, and have preserved 
the honor of the house, for which I thank you.” 

“Do you know who the man is, Monsieur Lou- 
vac?” 

“I have seen him before, but I don’t know his 
name.” 

“His name is Zellner,” interposed Jaqueline. “Cap- 
tain Zellner. He is an aide-de-camp to General von 
Stollberg. I have seen him often entering and leaving 
the Keranec chateau where General Stollberg has his 
headquarters.” 

“He was evidently trying to abduct you,” declared 
Father Max. “Was he doing it for General Stollberg 
or upon his own account? That is the question. I 
would prefer to think though, that he was acting for 
himself alone. Have you any reason to think, Jaque- 
line, that old Stollberg has taken a fancy to you ? Has 
he ever seen you?” 

“Yes, once. I caught him looking at me once in a 
way no good girl likes to be looked at.” 

The unconscious Zellner wore the iron cross upon 
the breast of his coat, and from} the pin of this cross 
dangled a piece of narrow light blue ribbon about three 
quarters of a yard long. Jaqueline had worn this rib- 
bon inserted in the yoke of her waist, it had caught in 


ZELLNER’S ICULTUR 


161 


the pin of Zellner’s iron cross during the struggle, and 
had been torn away. Father Max went to remove it 
from Zellner’s body in order to restore it to its fair 
owner. 

“Don’t touch it,” exclaimed Jaqueline. “I will 
never wear it again, after it has been soiled by contact 
with that beast.” 

The girl who had now bound up her hair, and 
made several adjustments to her disordered apparel, 
picked up her hat and put it on. 

“You are not really going home?” asked Madam 
Lou vac. “How can you think of it, after having had 
such a terrible time? You must stay here and let me 
look after you.” 

“Nonsense, Mama Louvac. I feel just as well as 
ever. As I told you before, Rachael is sick, and it is 
absolutely necessary that I return.” 

“Of course I go with you,” declared Father Max. 
“Monsieur Louvac, what are you going to do with this 
swine of a Zellner ?” 

“That is just what I was thinking, Father Max. 
When you return, we will discuss the question.” 

“But suppose he comes back to life again before I 
get here. Of course you know that he can have us 
shot, if he once gets away. Anyone who assaults a 
German officer is doomed to certain death.” 

Father Max knelt beside the unconscious man, 
listened for sounds of breathing, and placed a hand over 
his heart. 


11 


162 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“He breathes, and his heart is beating faintly,” de- 
clared the young priest. “He will doubtless be fully 
recovered in the space of a quarter hour.” 

“We must keep him here until you get back, and 
we can decide upon the matter,” said Louvac. “I have 
just thought of something. I have upon the shelf part 
of a six ounce bottle of chloroform which has been 
there ever since the fall of 1914, when I made use of it 
in amateur surgical work. I’ll give him a whiff or 
two of that, if he shows signs of a too rapid recovery. 
That will keep him here all night.” 

“Well, you know best. Be careful with it though. 
If you give him too strong a whiff, we’ll have a funeral 
instead of a consultation.” 

Jaqueline now bade good-bye to the Louvacs, and 
she and Father Max went out of the rear door of the 
bakery into the lane. Of course the closed motor car 
was still standing there. 

“I’ve seen that car often before to-night,” she de- 
clared. “I think that it is one of the several cars which 
belong to General von Stollberg. It has often stood 
at the curb in front of the gateway of the chateau.” 

“These rear tires are peculiar,” said Father Max, 
“I don’t think that I have ever seen anything exactly 
like them. Just take a look at them, as it will help you 
in future to identify the car.” 

Jaqueline examined the tires, and passed her hand 
over one of them. The raised figure on the tread was 
like the back-bone of a fish, with ribs radiating from it. 

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” said she. 


ZELLNER’S KULTUR 


163 


When they came to the Chateau Keranec, Father 
Max had her lock the gate in the rear wall, went 
through the grounds with her and saw her safely in 
the house. 

“Now that I know that those scoundrels are pur- 
suing you,” said he, “I will be worrying about you all 
the time. I would like dearly to take care of you. You 
must never go out into the streets after dark without 
me, Jaqueline, dear.” 

“You are very kind, Father Max. I would like 
nothing better than to have you with me.” 

She gave him such an amiable, smiling look that he 
with difficulty kept himself from embracing her. 

When he came back to the lane in the rear of Mar- 
tin Lou vac’s place, he found that the closed car had 
disappeared. When he came into the shop, the body 
of Zellner was nowhere in sight. 

“What has become of the remains?” he asked 
Louvac. 

“After you were gone I commenced to look for my 
bottle of chloroform. While I was thus engaged, I 
heard something moving, and turning about, saw Zell- 
ner sitting up. He stared at me for a moment, then 
spoke. 

“ 'Who attacked me?’ he asked. 

“ 'I don’t know,’ I answered. 'Someone hit me 
over the head, and knocked me out. When I came to 
myself a minute ago, you and I were the only persons 
in the place.’ ” 


164 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“ ‘It is all very strange. Some man, -a very power- 
ful man, came behind me, and strangled me into un- 
consciousness. Both of us must have been attacked by 
the same individual. Who was he? That is the ques- 
tion.’ 

“I saw that he had the idea of making me believe 
that someone else and not he had struck me, and I at 
once saw the advantage to me of letting him think that 
he was deceiving me. I also wanted him to think that 
he had been attacked by an outsider. 

“ Tt was probably some marauding burglar or high- 
wayman,’ said I, ‘I am the more certain of it, because 
all the money has been taken from my cash drawer.’ 

“ ‘That makes it plain, Monsieur Louvac. I think 
that it will be the wisest plan for us to say nothing at 
all about this matter. What think you ?’ 

“ ‘I heartily agree with you, Captain,’ said I. ‘The 
news of such a happening would do no good at all to 
my business.’ 

“He had arisen to his feet, and was feeling gingerly 
of his throat. Now, after smoothing out his clothing 
and putting on his kepi, he went out into the lane, got 
into his car, and drove away. I don’t really think that 
he will proceed against us.” 

“You think as you wish,” declared Father Max, as 
he went to ascend the stairway to his rooms. “We will 
hope that your wish comes true.” 

The young clergyman passed a rather restless night. 
Many times he was awakened by the noise of the mix- 
ing and the shoveling of concrete. 


ZELLNER’S KULTUR 


165 


“Why the dickens does old Louvac work at night?” 
he asked himself. “Probably he has been so disturbed 
by that extraordinary fracas that he can’t sleep, and has 
to work in order to relieve his mind.” 

When Father Max came down the next morning, he 
found that the box for the base of the chimney was 
filled, and the job finished. The baker sat dozing be- 
hind his counter. 


CHAPTER XII 
Defining a “Gimper” 

At half past four o’clock of the third morning after- 
ward, it being a Thursday, Jaqueline came from the 
house and issued forth from the small door in the gar- 
den wall. She wore a long, dark-colored cloak and a 
big soft felt hat pulled well down over her ears, and no 
one seeing her would have taken her for a young and 
handsome girl. This time she took the narrow street 
which stretched between the Keranec garden wall and 
the city wall, and passing through the small park or 
public square which lay in front of the chateau, arrived 
at the Scheldt River gate. After one of the guards at 
the gate had scrutinized her registration card, and 
passed her through, she crossed the old stone bridge, 
and presently entered the Neuilly woods. 

The sun had not yet risen, and though it was light 
enough in the open, the forest road was dark and 
gloomy. When she came to Perault’s deserted house, 
she stopped before the threshold with a half-formed in- 
tention of entering. The door stood partly open, show- 
ing a black interior, the window panes were broken, and 
there was a window shade which flapped and sucked 
with the morning wind, producing an eerie and ghostly 

166 


DEFINING A “GIMPER’ 


167 


sound. She shuddered involuntarily, and turning about, 
ran deeper into the woods. 

After following the road for three quarters of a 
mile, she came out upon the further side of the forest. 
Here the road turned to the right, and as her destina- 
tion lay straight ahead, she left the thoroughfare, and 
took to the fields. After walking perhaps a mile fur- 
ther, she came to a fringe of trees and evergreen shrubs, 
such as one finds now and then in France upon the 
dividing line between farms. Beyond this green barrier 
stretched a dreary waste of land, a mile wide, and many 
miles in length. Here the grass, the very earth itself 
was seared and burned. Here and there the ground was 
rent with great fissures,, or pitted with deep, wide holes. 
A few fallen trunks of trees were scattered over the 
brown expanse, and now and then a charred stump 
might he seen, but there was no living thing in this 
desolate territory. It was No Man’s Land, the land 
which lay between the British and German forces, after 
General Byng had beaten the Germans and almost cap- 
tured Cambrai in the fall of 1917. 

When Jaqueline came to the fringe of trees and 
evergreens, she pushed through it, and standing upon 
the further side, surveyed the heavens, to the west and 
south. Not finding what she wanted, she sat down, and 
appeared to prepare for a long spell of waiting. Now 
and then she arose, and, pacing back and forth, scanned 
minutely the whole area of the southwestern sky. All 
the morning she lingered and watched in that one spot, 


168 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMERA! 


and it was not until the sun began to climb down the 
western ladder that she found what she sought. 

At first it was a tiny black speck in the blue of heav- 
en, a little way above the horizon to the southwest. 
In two or three minutes, the black speck assumed some 
sort of shape and looked as if it might be a bird, in two 
or three minutes more, it had grown too large for a 
bird, unless it was one of those Rocs which Sinbad the 
sailor tells about. One minute more and the bird be- 
came an aeroplane. When the plane had reached a 
point almost over Jaqueline’s head, it began to volplane 
in circles, coming down in a graceful spiral, and at last 
alighted softly upon its rubber tread wheels. It ran a 
few rods upon the ground and came to a stop not a hun- 
dred feet distant from the girl. 

The pilot of the aeroplane, who was its only occu- 
pant, unstrapped himself from the seat, picked up a 
small wicker work cage from the floor of the fuselage, 
leaped from the machine, and ran toward Jaqueline. 
When he reached her, he threw back his fur hood, re- 
moved his yellow goggles, and showed himself to be a 
handsome, bronzed, athletic Frenchman of twenty-five. 
Jaqueline ran into his arms, and he squeezed her un- 
mercifully. 

“Oh, Paul,” she exclaimed, “I can’t tell you how 
glad I am to see you. I was broken hearted at missing 
you the last time you came. I was so fearful that some- 
thing had happened to you. How was it that you went 
away without seeing me?” 


DEFINING A “GIMPER’ 


169 


“It was ten o’clock when I came down. I waited 
a half hour, and would have gone on waiting, if a squad 
of Germans hadn’t appeared down by that creek to the 
southwest. I hoped that they wouldn’t see the plane, 
but they did, and came for me on the double quick. I 
had just time to whirl the propellor, and climb to the 
fuselage. They fired a dozen shots as the machine took 
to the air. They punched a lot of holes in my canvas, 
but that was all. I hung the cage of pigeons to an 
elderberry tree inside of that clump behind you, before 
I flew away, and pinned a paper to it with a line telling 
you to look for me today. Of course you found the 
pigeons and the note, or you wouldn’t be here. The 
pigeons came ’safely through and delivered your mes- 
sage, or rather your two messages. General Foch 
evidently has faith in your advice, for he has already 
concentrated great forces of men and guns along the 
Marne. Jaqueline, ma petite, it may be that a great 
battle will be won and that France will be saved through 
you. You are a second Jeanne d’Arc. You are a splen- 
did little patriot. At first I opposed your plan for stay- 
ing in Cambrai after the Germans came, that you might 
get information which would be of advantage to the 
French Army. It seemed too dangerous, and I have 
always been fearful of your safety. I have had awful 
dreams, and more than once have seen you found out 
and shot as a spy. Nothing that I could say, though, 
had any effect on you, and you persisted in your inten- 
tion. I must say this for you, that you are the most 


170 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMERA! 


obstinate little woman alive. When you have once de- 
termined upon your course, the devil himself can’t stop 
you. Now, however, that you have discovered for us 
the secret of the next German offensive, now that you 
have performed this great service for our beloved coun- 
try, it is time for you to stop. I have brought you the 
pigeons as I promised, but you will have no use for 
them. Jaqueline, little one, you must go back with me 
to the French lines. My plane will easily carry us both, 
so tumble in, and we will get away.” 

“Paul, dear, I cannot. There yet remains a lot to 
do. I had my information about the German offensive 
from General Stollberg, who occupies the main part of 
the Keranec chateau, while we are cooped up in the 
right wing of the building. I haven’t had a chance to 
tell you before. He intended to put us out altogether, 
and occupy the whole of the chateau, but we were able 
to make him come to terms. All the passages leading 
from our wing to the main part of the house are 
boarded up, but I went through the sliding panel which 
you know about, to the gallery of the grand salon, and 
listened to a conversation between the General and his 
officers. I have only General von Stollberg’s authority 
for my knowledge of the German offensive, and I mean 
to substantiate his statement. Also, I must find out 
when they are going to begin. Paul, dear, I have great 
news. In a few days, perhaps before another week, 
there will be a meeting of the German high command 
and that meeting will be held in Cambrai. More won- 


DEFINING A “GIMPER” 


171 


der fill yet, the place chosen for that meeting is the grand 
salon of the Keranec Chateau. I need not tell you that 
I intend to be present at that conference. I will be 
hidden behind the balustrade of the salon balcony, and 
I do not propose to miss a word. Hindenburg, Luden- 
dorf, Ruprecht of Bavaria and the Crown Price will be 
there. Perhaps the All Highest, himself, will conde- 
scend to be present. Paul, dearest, it is the chance of a 
lifetime, and I can’t miss it.” 

“Jaqueline, y OU are an enfant terrible, an incorrig- 
ible terror. You run from one danger to another, and 
I am powerless to prevent you. Can't you see the 
awful risk you are taking? Give it over, and go back 
with me to the French lines.” 

“No, Paul, I cannot. I will promise you this, 
though. If I succeed in this new undertaking, it will 
be the last. When you come again, I will be ready to 
go with you.” 

“Since I can’t do any better with you, I shall have 
to agree to your terms. Remember, though, I shall 
hold you to your promise. In two weeks from today, 
I shall come again, and shall expect you to return with 
me. I wish I could persuade you to come with me 
now. You don’t realize the awful danger you are 
facing.” 

“Pouf, it doesn’t amount to anything. I have taken 
greater chances than that. Besides, if I am going to be 
like Joan of Arc, I mustn’t be afraid of things. She 
wasn’t.” 


172 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Jaqueline, I wish to ask you a question. I had a 
friend, an American, whose name was Maxwell Flint. 
He belonged to the Escadrille Rochambeau, and he and 
I have made many a flight together. Two weeks ago 
Monday, the day before I was last here, he started out 
alone in the small scout plane for a long observation 
flight. He has never come back, and is either dead, or a 
prisoner. Can you give me any news of him ? Has any 
French plane come down near Cambrai?” 

“So his name is Maxwell Flint,” laughingly an- 
swered Jaqueline. “Yes, a French plane did come down 
near Cambrai the very day you were here, and its owner 
is alive and well. Neither is he a prisoner. It is a very 
mysterious affair. Listen, and I will tell you the whole 
wonderful story. It was half past four in the morning, 
and I was crossing the Scheldt River gate bridge to keep 
my appointment with you, when I first saw his plane. 
It was flying above the forest of Neuilly, and was stag- 
gering along now this way and now that, as if it were 
in trouble. Presently it straightened out, came down 
in a long, graceful volplane, and landed in the pasture 
to the right of the forest road, and about fifty feet from 
the forest. I was pretty close to it by that time, and I 
concealed myself beside the hedge, and w T atched to see 
what the aviator would do. 

“He worked at his engines for quite a while, then 
he straightened up, made a gesture as if he was dis- 
gusted, and I think that he swore. Presently he leaped 
to the ground, and after looking about him for a 


DEFINING A “GIMPER’ 


173 


moment, made his way into the woods. I wanted to 
see whether he was friend or enemy and what he would 
do, so I followed him at a safe distance, dodging from 
one tree to another. Very soon he came to a small 
dilapidated cabin, or hut, which stood within a small 
clearing beside the road. I had seen the hut before, and 
knew that it belonged to a poor peasant named Jaques 
Perault. The door of the house was half open, and our 
friend the aviator went to the threshold and peered 
through the opening. He started back, and flung up his 
hands in astonishment. Then he braced himself, and 
entered the house. I wanted to see what had so startled 
him, so I stole up to the hut, and, keeping my head well 
down to the sill, took a long look through the window. 
What I saw filled me with horror. You can’t imagine 
a more awful sight. Jaques Perault lay upon the floor 
dead with the blood running from a bullet hole in his 
breast. His little daughter, a child of seven, was lying 
upon the bed beside her dead mother. Both her hands 
were cut off, and she had bled to death. The woman 
had apparently died a natural death. Strangest of all, 
a priest of the Catholic church, Father Toussaint by 
name, sat dead in an arm chair, by the side of the bed, 
with a blue bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. 
Some one had made a perfect shambles of the place. 
There was nothing to steal in the house. Who could 
have murdered these people, and why was it done?” 

“A foolish question to ask, Jaqueline, in these days 
of German Kultur. Doubtless it was a merry party of 


174 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


boches returning from a foray, and wishing to add one 
more frolic to the doings of a perfect day.” 

“You are right, Paul. No one but a cultivated Ger- 
man could conceive and execute such a deed. But I 
must get on with my story, or you will spread your 
wings and fly away before I am half through. The 
aviator stood in the midde of the cabin floor, gazing at 
the gruesome scene, and apparently pondering some 
weighty matter. Presently he seemed to have made up 
his mind. He stripped off the leather envelope which 
covered him from head to foot, and threw it, together 
with his fur hood, upon the floor. Next, he went at 
the body of the priest, and quickly divested it of cassock, 
knee breeches and vest, one of those vests which button 
up the back. Having, with a great deal of hard work, 
drawn his discarded leather garment over the priest’s 
body, and pulled the aviator’s hood over the priest’s 
head, he clothed himself with the good father’s vest- 
ments, and picking up the priest’s cane, and placing the 
priest’s shovel hat upon his head, went to a small look- 
ing glass in a corner of the room, and surveyed himself 
therein. 

“Having satisfied himself that he made a very pre- 
sentable priest, he hauled the priest’s body from the 
chair, bent down, threw it over his shoulder, straight- 
ened up, and left the cottage. Of course I had to see 
what he was going to do, so I followed him. He went 
along the road out of the woods until he came to the 
aeroplane. Then, still bearing the leather clad body of 


DEFINING A “GIMPER’ 


175 


the priest on his shoulders, as easily as if it were a 
small bag of flour, he stepped upon the front wheel of 
the plane, from there to the top of the under wing, and 
tumbled the corpse into the fuselage. Getting in him- 
self, he lifted the priest’s body into the seat, and 
strapped it there. I could see now that the birdman was 
no German. Neither did he seem to be French. I rea- 
soned it out in my mind that he was either an English- 
man, or an American. I had been thinking all the while, 
and I had come to a conclusion as to the cause of his 
strange maneuvers. His aeroplane was a wreck, or the 
engine of it was hopelessly stalled. He was fifty miles 
within the enemy’s line, without friends and helpless. 
If caught, he would be put into a prison camp for the 
rest of the war. And I tell you, Paul, he didn’t look 
much like a man who could submit to capture and im- 
prisonment. When he saw the dead priest, he had an 
inspiration. The priest should take his place in the 
fuselage of the aeroplane, and by doing so would head 
off all search for the missing aviator. He, himself, by 
impersonating the dead father, could preserve his lib- 
erty, could move about freely, could regain his own 
lines, or, if that were impossible, he might still be able 
to assist the Allies in many things. 

“He now jumped down from the fuselage, and I, 
not wishing him to catch me, ran down the road through 
the forest, crossed the fields and came here to wait for 
you. I waited about four hours, and didn’t see the 
least sign of you. I was filled with anxiety to know 


176 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRA 1 


what had become of the aeroplane and of the birdman 
who had camouflaged himself as a father of the church. 
I concluded that you would not come until late in the 
day, and I decided to go back and satisfy my curiosity. 
When I had passed the fields, and had gone through the 
woods, I found a crowd of twenty or thirty people 
standing at one side of the road and watching the aero- 
plane with its dead pilot, the plane being guarded by 
two German soldiers, who walked back and forth, one 
on either side of it. I was conscious that a familiar 
figure stood beside me. I took a good look out of the 
corner of my eye, and saw that it was my aviator friend 
of the early morning, the make-believe holy Father. He 
told me that his name was Father Max.” 

“Maxwell Flint, I’ll bet a small fortune,” exclaimed 
Paul, “was there a number on the fuselage of the 
plane ?” 

“Yes, it was numbered S. 2. 34.” 

“That’s his scout plane. It’s all settled. Your 
Father Max is Maxwell Flint. You said he told you 
his name. You got to know him then?” 

“Rather. One usually knows a man who has thrice 
saved one’s life.” 

“Did he do that?” 

“He surely did. Last Monday I was attacked by a 
Prussian officer. Father Max came behind him, seized 
his throat with both hands, and strangled him into un- 
consciousness. A week ago, he and I were set upon by 
four armed German soldiers. Father Max knocked one 
of them senseless, picked up his rifle, fired three shots, 


DEFINING A “GIMPER’ 


1 77 


killing the other three. The best part of it was that he 
was so careless and matter-of-fact about it. He seemed 
to regard the affair as only a part of the day’s business.” 

“That’s Maxwell Flint all over. Dear old Max, it 
needed but this to make you heart of my heart and soul 
of my soul. Jaqueline, ma petite, I will now feel reas- 
sured to a great extent about your safety. Now that I 
know that you are surrounded by the care and protec- 
tion of Maxwell Flint. Now I can leave you with some 
degree of composure. Dear old Max is a host in him- 
self. He was the best shot, the best swordsman, the 
best boxer and the best all around athlete in his Ameri- 
can college. He didn’t tell me either. I learned it 
from other sources. Max is a most modest man. One 
might almost call him bashful.” 

“There you are wrong. I have never found him 
bashful in the least.” 

“Maxwell Flint is one of the bravest flyers in our 
corps. Long ago he became an ace. He has an eye 
like a hawk and he is as quick as a panther. He has 
brought down a score of German planes. He is a 
gimper surely enough.” 

“What is a gimper?” 

“A gimper is an air man who always sticks by you 
when you are in a fight, who never turns tail and runs 
away. When men first join the corps, they are eggs, 
if they are good eggs, they become vultures, from vul- 
tures they get to be goophers, when they have proved 
themselves faithful in all things, they become gimpers.” 


12 


178 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Then Father Max is undoubtedly a gimper.” 

“What does he do with himself all these days? 
How does he pass the time?” 

“He spends his days in collecting information about 
the German forces and plans, which will be of advan- 
tage to the Allies.” 

“A most useful task. One might know that Max- 
well Flint would not forget the cause for a moment. 
How does he propose though to forward this informa- 
tion?” 

“I am going to help him. My pigeons will carry 
his message as well as mine. He will be with me, con- 
cealed in the balcony of the Keranec salon at the con- 
ference of the German high command.” 

“Jaqueline, ma cherie, I wish you all the luck in 
the world. There is one thing you must bear in mind.” 

“What is that?” 

“When you are listening to the consultation of the 
German high command from] your place of concealment 
in the balcony, you must remember not to sneeze. 
Many people have lost their lives by sneezing.” 

“I am glad you told me. I hadn’t thought of that. 
I will take ample precaution against it.” 

“And now, Jaqueline, I must go. Recollect, two 
weeks from today, in this same spot. I will bring a 
two-seater, and you will go back with me.” 

“Can’t you make it a three-seater ?” 

“Why a three-seater ?” 

“Then we could take Father Max along with us. 
He would be very lonely left in Cambrai all by himself.” 


DEFINING A “GIMFER 5 


179 


‘"Oh, so it has come to that? Jaqueline, you minx, 
I might have known it, since you have been in the com- 
pany of dear old Max all these days. No woman has 
ever been able to resist him.” 

“I don’t know what you mean by saying that it has 
come to that. Anyway Father Max isn’t the kind of a 
man to fuss over women.” 

“Little you know about him. Well, good-bye, Jaque- 
line, dearest.” 

He embraced and kissed! the girl tenderly, then he 
whirled the propeller of the aeroplane, Jaqueline, mean- 
while, bracing her feet upon the ground, and holding to 
the tail of it, to keep it from running away. The en- 
gine started, and the plane commenced to glide over the 
broken field. Paul dodged to one side, closed in again, 
scrambled to the top of the lower wing, from there 
vaulted into the fuselage, and seized the wheel. Jaque- 
line, taking steps six feet wide, was pulled along ever 
faster and faster at the tail of the machine, till she had 
sense enough to let go. Unfortunately for her dignity, 
she took a header and turned a complete somersault. 
She wouldn’t have liked to have Father Max see her 
at that moment. Nevertheless, she was on her feet 
again when the aeroplane arose from the ground. She 
saw Paul wave his hand to her, and she fluttered her 
handkerchief, as long as the aeroplane was in sight. 
When it was a mere speck in the sky off toward the 
southwest, she picked up the osier crate of pigeons and 
wended her way back through the woods and over the 
bridge to the town. 


CHAPTER XIII 
Kidnapped 


When she came to the city gates, the guard scrutin- 
ized her card, and asked her what she had in the cage. 

“A pair of doves,” she answered. 

The soldier, an old fellow of sixty, who cared more 
for a foaming tankard than the prettiest girl living, 
squinted through the interstices between the osiers. 

“They're a funny looking pair of .doves,” said he. 
“Are you going to eat them, or keep them for domestic 
pets?” 

“They will be pets of course. I wouldn’t think of 
eating them.” 

“In that case you will have to pay a tax for bringing 
them into the city, a tax of twenty-five centimes each.” 

Jaqueline took from her purse a silver franc piece 
and gave it to the old soldier. 

“You may keep the other fifty centimes,” said she. 

The picture of two immense foaming steins of beer 
floated before the mental vision of the veteran, and he 
eagerly pocketed the franc piece. 

“Danke schoen, gnadige fraulein,” said he. 

When Jaqueline came to the rear wall of the Ker- 
anec grounds, she opened the small door, set the crate 

180 


KIDNAPPED 


181 


of pigeons inside the wall under a bush, closed and 
locked the door, and set out in the direction of the 
Louvac bakery. When she arrived in the narrow lane, 
back of the building, she was admitted to the kitchen 
by Madam Louvac. 

“I have the things all ready for you, Jaqueline, my 
child,” said she. 

She took four small packages from the table and 
gave them to the girl. 

“Two pounds of sugar, one pound of coffee, a quar- 
ter of a pound of tea and a two pound box of rice. 
That is right, is it not, ma petite?” 

“Yes, Mama Louvac, and now good night, as I must 
be going.” 

“Wait a minute, and I will get Father Max. He 
said that you were not to go out into the streets alone 
after dark, and it is getting dark already. He will 
gladly go with you. If I know the man, he wouldn’t 
miss walking home with you for a fortune.” 

“No, you mustn’t bother him. I don’t want to ask 
the poor man to go all that way and back. Besides, it 
isn’t really dark yet. I will be home before it is.” 

Jaqueline kissed Mama Louvac good night, and 
went quickly down the lane. 

At seven o’clock the next morning which was Fri- 
day, while Madam Louvac was getting breakfast, there 
came an insistent' pounding on the kitchen door. When 
the door was opened, Rachael Prevost the stout, middle- 
aged housekeeper for the Countess, rushed into the 


182 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


house, threw up her hands as if in despair, and sank 
breathless in a chair. 

“Madam Louvac,” she exclaimed, as soon as she 
could speak, “Jaqueline is gone. She didn’t come home 
all last night. At ten o'clock she hadn’t come, and I 
went to bed, thinking that she would come later, as she 
often does. This morning I found her bed untouched. 
After I had looked about the house, I went down 
through the grounds to the back wall. The little door 
was open, there were marks of a struggle on the grass, 
and her packages were lying here and there. Some- 
thing terrible has happened. Bon Dieu. What shall we 
do?” 

Madam Louvac went to the door of the shop, and 
called loudly. 

“Martin, Father Max,” said she. “come quickly. 
Something has happened to Jaqueline. The dear child 
is gone, no one knows where.” 

Father Max was just then coming down the stairs, 
and Martin Louvac was busy behind the counter. 

“Le bon Dieu !” exclaimed Louvac. 

“The devil,” roared Father Max. 

The two women were shocked at such profanity. 
They had never before heard such language coming 
from the mouth of a clergyman. 

Both men rushed into the kitchen. Rachael Prevost 
told her story again. Both she and Madam Louvac 
were sobbing and wringing their hands. 

“Calm yourselves,” commanded Father Max. “Let 


KIDNAPPED 


183 


us examine the matter carefully and find what we have 
to do. Rachael says that several packages were lying 
upon the grass. What were these packages ?” 

“They were things that I bought for Jaqueline at 
the delicatessen store,” answered Madam Louvac. 
“The dear child came and got them from me at nine 
o'clock last night. Two pounds of sugar, one pound of 
coffee, a quarter of a pound of tea, and a two pound 
paper box of rice.” 

“And you found all these articles upon the ground 
this morning, Rachael?” 

“I didn’t find the rice, the other things were there.” 

“It’s strange that you didn’t find the rice. Jaque- 
line must have taken the rice with her. Madam Louvac, 
why did you permit Jaqueline to go home alone at nine 
o’clock? You should have called me, I would have 
been only too glad to go with her.” , 

“So I told her,” moaned Madam I.ouvac, “but the 
darling girl wouldn’t listen to me. She was afraid it 
would tire you.” 

“Tire me! What nonsense! I would have gone to 
the end of the earth with her any time. Rachael, where 
is the boy, Jean, Jaqueline’s brother? He knows the 
city well, and I want him to help me find her.” 

“Oh, you stupid man,” cried Rachael. “There is 
no Jean. Jaqueline and Jean are one and the same per- 
son. Jaqueline is Jean and Jean is Jaqueline. Are you 
blind that you didn’t see it? The dear girl now and 
then would dress in boy’s clothing in order to come and 
go with more safety.” 


184 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Yes, I have been blind and a blockhead,” answered 
the astonished Father Max. “I might have known that 
sister and brother never looked so much alike. When 
she was Jean, she kept her big cap pulled down to the 
nape of her neck, so that I couldn’t see her hair. That 
was a suspicious circumstance, and should have put me 
wise. Martin Louvac, why did you tell me that Jean 
and Jaqueline were brother and sister? What was the 
use of keeping me in the dark ?” 

“I never reveal the secrets of my friends unless they 
instruct me to do so,” answered Louvac, stiffly. 

“This I suppose is the work of that villain, Zellner. 
He has carried out his original intention.” 

“I don’t think so, Father Max, I am rather certain 
that he had nothing to do with this affair.” 

“What makes you certain? What evidence have 
you that he was not involved?” 

“None, none at all. I just thought that it might 
have been the work of someone else. That is all.” 

“Nonsense, Louvac, you are not yourself this morn- 
ing. You are not relying upon your brains, but upon 
your foolish imagination. But enough of this talk. 
We must set to work at once, find out where Jaqueline 
is, and rescue her from these devils, whoever they are. 
1 will go with Rachael to the Keranec Chateau, and see 
if I can discover some clues to her whereabouts.” 

“I will go with you,” declared Louvac. 

“I would prefer that you stay here,” said Father 
Max, “something may happen at this end of the line 


KIDNAPPED 


185 


which will require your attention. You may be able to 
get some information here, Jaqueline, herself, may turn 
up in your shop during the morning. Besides that, I 
will do well enough alone. The two of us together 
looking for the girl would excite more comment than if 
one of us worked alone.” 

“Perhaps you are right, Father Max. I have sev- 
eral sources of information in the neighborhood, and I 
will set things going. Meanwhile, I wish you luck.” 

“I will find Jaqueline, never fear, if she is in the 
land of the living, and I have no doubt she is. They 
don’t kill girls as pretty as Jaqueline.” 

Saying this, Father Max went away with Rachael. 
When they came to the rear wall of the Keranec 
grounds, she showed him the open gate, thd trampled 
grass and the three packages, which Jaqueline had 
dropped during the struggle. 

“I can’t see why] she should hang on to the rice,” 
said Father Max to himself. 

Going across the walk outside of the wall, he came 
to the curb, and examined the gutter. The small lane 
back of the Keranec grounds was not paved and the 
gutter was muddy. In the mud of the gutter was the 
imprint of an automobile tire. It was a strange imprint, 
and resembled the! back-bone of a fish with ribs radia- 
ting from it on both sides. 

“That’s the tire of Zellner’s automobile,” exclaimed 
he. “Zellner’s car has been here, Martin Louvac was 
wrong. Zellner is at the bottom of the disappearance 


186 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


of Jaqueline. By following- the tracks of Zellner’s 
wheels, 1 will surely come upon the darling girl.” 

He ordered Rachael to shut the small door in the 
garden wall and to go into the house. Then he set 
himself to follow the marks left by the fish-bone tires. 
It was all very easy as long as he was in the muddy 
lane, but very soon the automobile tracks led him to a 
paved street, and here of course all trace of them van- 
ished. While he was gazing disconsolately at the 
stones of the pavement, several tiny small white objects 
lying between the cobbles caught his attention. He 
picked up a few of them and examined them carefully. 
They were grains of rice. He looked ahead of him 
along the street, and could see a slender trickle, an ir- 
regular, hardly discernible trail of the white particles 
strung out in advance of him. There were two or three 
here, one or two there, and a half dozen a little further 
on. The full significance of this phenomenon came to 
him like a flash of lightning. 

“Jaqueline, you little dear,” he exclaimed to him- 
self, “you didn’t keep that box of rice for nothing. I 
might have known that you were smart enough to 
outwit your abductors. You have left a trail that any- 
one could follow who was not blind. You must have 
taken out a handful from the box now and then, and 
let it trickle out of the car some way as you went 
along.” 

He now commenced to follow the scarcely percep- 
tible trail of rice, keeping to the middle of the street as 


KIDNAPPED 


187 


he did so, and having his eyes constantly on the ground. 
People who saw him wondered at his strange actions, 
and then came to the conclusion that this devout young 
priest was engaged in holy meditation and contempla- 
tion. 

His adventure led him up one street and down an- 
other. The trail zigzagged back and forth, and round 
about in circles. He came to the conclusion that Jaque- 
line’s kidnappers had cooped her up in the back part of 
the closed car with the curtains fastened down, and had 
taken a devious course in order to deceive her as to 
their destination. When he came to the end of his pur- 
suit, he was only three quarters of a mile from the 
Chateau de Keranec, but he had walked thrice that dis- 
tance. When finally the trail ended, he found himself 
in a poor part of the town near the North gate which 
was called “The Bruges Gate.” The neighborhood was 
formerly a fashionable place of residence, but long 
since its inhabitants of wealth and standing had died, or 
moved to better and more improved localities. The 
district was now given over to factories, warehouses, 
tenements and wine shops, its streets were narrow, con- 
gested and ill kept and its population was dirty and 
clothed in rags. Still, however, now and then, one 
came across one of the old, well-built, respectable man- 
sions which stood like an imposing and lonely land- 
mark in the midst of its common and disreputable 
surroundings. 

To such a house the trickling thread of rice brought 


188 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


Father Max. The scattered grains left the road, ap- 
peared upon the sidewalk, and lay profusely upon the 
steps of the building. It was a three story and base- 
ment gabled structure of mouldy, greenish red brick, 
and appeared to be uninhabited, for every window was 
covered with solid, weather-stained wooden shutters. 
The grains of rice, however, proved incontestably that 
Jaqueline was a prisoner somewhere in the building. 
Father Max tried the main front door and the shutters 
of the window next the door, but found them fastened 
securely. Then he went around into the street back of 
the house, went through a passage between two ware- 
houses, and inspected the rear of the mansion. It was 
just like the front, every window was shuttered and 
every door fast closed. Next the old red brick house 
there stood a three storied tenement, the roof of which 
arose to within eight feet of the roof of its pretentious 
neighbor. Father Max conceived the idea of going up 
through the tenement and getting from its roof to the 
eaves of the higher building. 

He went back to the street in front of the tenement, 
and boldly entered the hallway of the building, picking 
his way between half a dozen ragged and dirty children, 
who were clustered upon the steps. He went up the 
three flights of stairs to the top story, meeting a man 
and two women on his way up, but remaining unques- 
tioned and unopposed. A priest may go anywhere at 
any time without exciting comment. He found a lad- 
der to the scuttle, and easily made his way to the roof. 


KIDNAPPED 


189 


The eaves of the brick mansion were between eight and 
nine feet above his head, but that was no hindrance to a 
man who was the champion hurdler of his university. 
He stood under the objective point, gave a mighty leap 
into the air, clutched the top of the overhanging cor- 
nice, and drew himself up to the eave trough. 

He scrambled up the steep, tiled roof to the scuttle, 
and tried to lift the trap, but found it fastened tightly 
down. He got both hands under the edge of it, 
braced himself, and gave a regular war tug, with the 
result that the scuttle burst from its fastenings and 
almost threw him backward down the roof. The in- 
terior of the house was darkness almost impenetrable, 
but, by cupping his eyes with his hands, he was able 
finally to make out that there was no ladder to the open- 1 
ing, and that the floor was all of twelve feet below him. 
Nothing daunted, he swung himself down into that 
square of blackness, and dropped to the boards beneath 
alighting easily on the balls of his feet. 

Father Max was a consistent pipe smoker, and al- 
ways carried an inexhaustible supply of matches. He 
took a match from his box, lighted it, found the head 
of the stairway, and descended to the second floor. 
Sounds now came to him from the first floor which in- 
dicated that the house was tenanted, notwithstanding its 
closed appearance. Several men were laughing, shout- 
ing and swearing below stairs. The front room on the 
first floor was lighted up, a part of this illumination 
leaked out into the hallway, and up the stairs, so that he 


190 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


had now no difficulty in moving about. He stole down 
several steps of the lower stairway, and craning his 
neck over the banisters, locked under the top of the 
front room doorway. Four soldiers sat at a table in 
the middle of the room playing cards, their rifles were 
stacked convenient to their hands and bottles and 
glasses stood upon the board beside them. 

Father Max now retraced his steps, and examined 
the two large rooms of the second floor. As he entered 
the front room, he found immediately upon his left, the 
side toward which the door opened, a partition which 
separated the front from the back room. This partition 
had an arch, and in the arch hung portieres. To his 
right, as he came through the doorway, stood against 
the wall a large, heavy, round table, like a dining table, 
which was piled high with dusty old account books, day 
books, journals and ledgers. These two rooms were 
half filled with dilapidated, worn out furniture, which 
was mostly office furniture, such as desks, office chairs 
and counters. The old mansion had evidently been 
used for business purposes at some remote date. 
Glancing into the back! room, through the half-opened 
portieres, he saw a thin ray of light coming up through 
a crack between two boards. Kneeling down upon the 
floor, he peered through the fissure, and found himself 
looking into a room dimly lighted by a single gas jet. 
As his eyes grew more accustomed to the task, he per- 
ceived a bed of soiled and slovenly appearance upon 
which lay a female figure. The woman's face was 


KIDNAPPED 


191 


turned to the wall, so that he couldn’t see it, but there 
was something familiar about the lines of her form and 
her garments which told him that she was Jaqueline. 
He tore a half page from one of the dusty old account 
books, and wrote a message to her upon it : 

“Dear Jaqueline, I am here on the floor above you. 
Be patient and don’t make any noise. I shall soon get 
to you and set you free. Don’t be afraid, I am coming. 
Father Max.” 

He folded it up, with a silver five franc piece inside 
of it, and dropped it through the crack in the floor. 
His missive made a smart rap as it struck the floor be- 
low, and the figure upon the bed started up. As the 
woman turned her face, he saw that she was indeed 
Jaqueline. She soon found the folded message. When 
she had read it, she looked upward and kissed her hand. 

Though Father Max had written Jaqueline so con- 
fidently, he was far from being certain of his ability to 
make good his words. He had commenced his search 
for her so hurriedly and with such anxiety that he had 
totally forgotten to bring a weapon of any kind. His 
first duty was to provide himself with some kind of an 
offensive implement. 

After making a close inspection of the two rooms, 
he found that they were devoid of anything of the kind. 
Turning his attention to the hallway, his glance at 
once fell upon the stair rail. It was in a rickety condi- 
tion, several of the banisters were missing and all of 
them were loose. He lifted the rail a fraction of an 


192 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


inch, and easily pulled one of the banisters from its 
socket. It was a hardwood stick, three feet long, an 
inch and three quarters thick, and was ringed and fluted. 
He swung it in circles about his head, and was much 
pleased with the way it felt to his grip. At the same 
time he harbored no foolish notion of going downstairs 
and attacking with a club four seasoned soldiers who 
were armed with rifles. 

One of the windows of the front room was bare of 
glass. Father Max went over to it, unhooked the spring 
catch of the shutter from its staple, and flinging the 
shutter open, thrust his head out of doors. There had 
been quite a wind all day, and it was now blowing fit- 
fully in sudden gusts. Before he thought to prevent it, 
a capfull of wind hurled the blind shut against his 
face. Fortunately it struck his nose which was an aqui- 
line, aggressive member, and the terrible noise of its 
banging against the window frame was avoided. 

As he watched the shutter, and felt ruefully of his 
nose, he saw the shutter swing slowly open of itself, 
whereupon a brilliant idea came to him. He placed 
the palm of his hand, next the wrist, against the staple 
which was driven into the sill, and pressed with all his 
strength, so that the staple was bent over fully a half 
inch. He now tried the spring catch of the) shutter, and 
found that it would no longer hook upon the staple. 

“When that shutter has banged shut several times,” 
he soliloquized. “A fellow will come up here to fasten 
it. When the fellow fixes the shutter, I’ll fix the fellow. 


KIDNAPPED 


193 


Where can I stand so that I can get him with this club 
before he sees me? There’s no place by the hall door. 
The door opens flat against the partition on the one 
side, and that big table stands next the door on the other 
side. I could never reach him across the table. If I 
take the table away, he’ll notice its absence before he 
comes into the room, and will be put upon his guard. 
I must take my stand behind the portieres in the back 
room, and pray God that the man will take it into his 
head to look in there.” 

Having come to this conclusion, he let loose the 
shutter which he had been holding shut, and took his 
stand in the back room just behind one of the portieres. 
The shutter creaked slowly open, and again banged to 
against the window frame. 

“That will bring some one up right away,” thought 
Father Max. 

“Bang,” went the shutter, and again swung creak- 
ingly open, “bang, bang, bang” went the shutter. The 
noise made by an overturned chair came from the room 
below, there were heavy footsteps in the hallway of the 
first floor and upon the stair, and a hulking big soldier 
came into the second story front room. He was a 
stupid, broad-faced boche, of thirty, and he swore pro- 
fusely in high Dutch as he came up the stair, as he en- 
tered the apartment, and as he vainly tried to fasten the 
shutter with the defective catch. At length, looking 
about the room, he found a piece of string, and made 
the catch fast to the staple. 

13 


194 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Good Lord, send him in here just for a second,” 
prayed Father Max. 

His prayer was unanswered, for the fellow, his task 
accomplished, went across the floor and into the hall- 
way without so much as giving a glance at the partly 
opened portieres. Father Max came out from his hid- 
ing place and, giving the lie to his religious appearance, 
swore softly. He twirled the club with his right hand, 
dug his left hand into his trouser pocket and meditated. 
He grasped unconsciously a half dozen of the dozen 
gold twenty franc pieces which his trouser pocket con- 
tained, and, hauling them out, looked at them. They 
gave him another brilliant idea. 

He placed one of them upon the floor in the center 
of the chamber, another three feet away, on a line with 
the first gold piece and the opening between the por- 
tieres, another three feet further on, a fourth directly 
under the portieres and a fifth three feet inside the back 
room. He next broke the string which fastened the 
shutter, and as the light streamed into the chamber, 
noted with satisfaction its scintillating effect upon his 
tempting display of new twenty franc pieces. 


CHAPTER XIV 
The Great Offensive 

“Bang, bang, ban g,” went the released shutter. 
Footsteps again sounded from the hallway below, and 
Father Max stole swiftly to his hiding place behind the 
portieres. 

It was the same moon-faced Dutchman who now 
came up. As he mounted the stairs, he swore more 
wickedly than before. Hardly had he got inside the 
door, when the glitter of the first gold piece struck his 
eye. With a cry of joy and a look of avarice, he made 
a dive for it, just as if he expected that it might get 
away from him before he could seize it. From the first 
twenty franc piece, he went to the second, from the 
second to the third, and from the third to the fourth, 
giving a grunt of satisfaction with the acquisition of 
each fresh coin. He was on his hands and knees, to 
reach the fifth gold piece, he had to project his head and 
shoulders between the portieres. He little thought that 
this moment was his last. Crack! came the heavy, 
fluted banister upon the back of his head, and he sank 
softly to the floor, without giving so much as a gasp. 

The fellow’s left hand was tightly clenched. Father 
Max pried the fingers apart, and recovered his five gold 

195 


196 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


pieces. The ruling passion had been strong in death, 
and it was necessary to hammer the hand with the 
banister before it would open. Grasping the boche’s 
body by the coat collar, Father Max dragged it into a 
dark corner of the back room, and deposited it behind 
some furniture. Having done this, he again spread his 
tempting lay out of gold pieces upon the floor, and 
again took up his position behind the portieres. 

“Bang, bang, bang,” went the shutter. There was 
a longer wait this time, but finally, one of the three re- 
maining Germans came to the foot of the stairs. 

“Wohin bist du gegangen, du lump?” he bellowed. 
“Warum, in der namen des teufels, hast du nicht den 
fenster laden zugemacht ?” 

Receiving no answer to his fervid inquiry, he 
bounded up the stairway, and burst into the room. He 
was a long, lanky, overgrown fellow of twenty, with a 
retreating forehead and a generally dissipated and wick- 
ed look. He was no less active and voracious than his 
companion in finding and appropriating the golden bait, 
before the fatal blow fell, however, he had time to look 
up and visualize his enemy. If it was any satisfaction 
to him to be killed by a priest, he had it. 

For the second time, Father Max dragged a stif- 
fened boche into the back room and hid him, for the 
third time, he placed his counters in position. 

“I’ve got Fritz and Hans,” thought he, “and now 
for Heine and Ernie.” 

“Bang, bang, bang,” went the shutter, and again 


THE GREAT OFFENSIVE 


197 


there was shouting and swearing in the front room be- 
low. This time Father Max was out of his reckoning, 
for both the two remaining bodies came up the stairs 
together. They were broad, tough, hardy looking 
scoundrels, and Father Max took a firmer hold of his 
club. 

“Where in hell have they gone to?” demanded one 
man of the other. “What is up do you think?” 

“Something crooked, you bet. Fritz has the 
money. Don’t forget that. Look out if we don’t get 
the double cross.” 

The first man in the room was the first to see the 
gold coins. While he was making a dive for the near- 
est, however, his companion saw and reached the sec- 
ond. In this way, scrambling for the gold pieces, 
struggling and swearing, they both came under the 
portieres together. Father Max gave the quietus to one 
of them, but the other managed to get to his feet and 
stagger back into the front room. Father Max was 
after him in a second, the German drew an automatic 
from his belt, but found his wrist pinioned with a grip 
of steel. The banister, no longer useful at such close 
quarters, fell to the floor. The athletic clergyman 
circled the fellow’s waist with his right arm, and with 
the left bent the pistol wrist back so cruelly that the 
bone snapped. At the same moment the pistol was dis- 
charged. Somewhere in the body of the boche the ball 
found lodgment. The exact spot doesn’t matter. 
Father Max found it sufficient that the fellow’s body 


198 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


slid limp and inert to the floor, and that the last of his 
four opponents had gone to that place where the Allies 
cease from troubling and the Germans are at rest. 

“A dead boche has no business with French gold," 
said Father Max, as he recovered his five twenty franc 
pieces. “I shall never spend any of this money, but 
will keep each piece as a cherished treasure. No money 
was ever used to such advantage.” 

Without troubling himself to move either body of 
his two last adversaries, Father Max bounded down 
stairs, and entered the front room, the room where the 
four Germans had been playing cards. This first 
apartment was separated from the rear one by a pair 
of sliding doors which were locked. The key was in 
the lock, he shot back the bolt, threw open the doors, and 
was just in time to catch Jaqueline in his arms. She 
had been waiting for him just the other side of the 
door, and had rushed forward the moment she saw him. 
Her clothing was disordered, she had been crying and 
there was smut on her nose, but she looked, for all that, 
as lovely as ever. 

“My heart jumped when I heard the pistol shot,” 
said she, “I was dreadfully afraid they had killed you. 
Was it your pistol I heard?” 

“No, it belonged to one of your gaolers. He tried 
to shoot me, but I bent his arm back and made him 
shoot himself.” 

“I am so glad that you didn't shoot the man, Father 
Max. It’s much better and more merciful to have them 
shoot themselves, don’t you think?” 


THE GREAT OFFENSIVE 


199 


“Now, Jaqueline, you incorrigible little sinner,” said 
Father Max, with affected severity. “You see what 
comes to you for disobeying me. I told you never to 
go into the streets after dark.” 

“But it wasn’t quite dark when I left Mama Lou- 
vac’s,” pleaded Jaqueline. “I hoped to reach the cha- 
teau before it was really dark. However, I promise 
never to go out again after sunset, unless with you.” 

“Now tell me, Jaqueline, dear, just how it hap- 
pened. How did they come to get you ?” 

“It was after I had opened the door in the wall and 
was entering the grounds. They were hidden in the 
bushes and they sprang upon me at that moment. There 
were five of them, these four German soldiers and an 
officer ; a small, slim, foppish fellow whom I have seen 
attending upon General Stollberg.” 

“Do you know his name?” 

“I think that his name is Stirpitz.” 

“Stirpitz again. I see that we will have to give this 
fellow particular attention. What happened then, 
Jaqueline?” 

“I struggled and tried to cry out, but they stopped 
my mouth and dragged me out into the lane. When 
we came into the lane, I saw a closed car standing at 
the curb, the same car which Zellner brought to Papa 
Lou vac’s bakery. Where it came from in that brief 
interval of time I don’t know. I had dropped my pack- 
ages by then, all except the box of rice. Some intuition 
made me hold on to it under my cloak. They pushed 


200 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


me into the back part of the car, and closed and locked 
the doors somehow. The curtains were pulled down 
closely, and were fastened, so that I couldn't raise them. 
So the car glided away, while I sat in darkness, wonder- 
ing how I was ever going to get word to you so that 
you could find me.” 

“And you thought of me the first thing, Jaqueline, 
dearest?” 

“Certainly. Whom else should I think of? I 
knew that you could rescue me, if anyone could. It 
was then that I looked at the box which I held in my 
hand, which was dribbling rice out of a broken corner. 
I remembered how we girls used to dress up in boy’s 
clothes and play hare and hounds with bits of paper, and 
the idea came to me to strew the grains of rice along 
the route. I knew that you would be smart enough to 
follow the trail. How to drop the rice out of the close- 
ly shut car was the problem. At length, I pulled up 
the floor rug, and found a small, round hole in the 
floor, a hole put there so that one could reach the trans- 
mission or something with an oil can. So there I sat, 
and trickled the rice out of my hand through the hole, 
until we reached our destination. I dropped some on 
the walk, and threw a whole lot on the steps, as I was 
dragged from the car to the house. 1 have no idea 
where this place is. It seemed as if we must have gone 
two or three miles.” 

“They drove around and up and down all of three 
miles, Jaqueline, so as to make you think that you were 


THE GREAT OFFENSIVE 


201 


that distance from the Chateau de Keranec. But I can 
assure you that we are not at present over three quar- 
ters of a mile away from your home. What did you 
do after they had locked you up?” 

“Nothing at all. I simply lay down and waited for 
you to come. I knew very well that you would come. 
When you sent me down that perfectly beautiful little 
note, I banished all my fears, and felt perfectly safe and 
serene.” 

“Weren’t you afraid that those four big boches, 
armed to the teeth, would be too many for me?” 

“Not a bit of it. I have seen you in action before. 
When I heard the shutter commence to bang, I said to 
myself, ‘That is Father Max.’ When I heard the sound 
of a heavy blow and of a falling body, I said to myself, 
‘That is Father Max.’ When I heard the pistol go off, 
I was frightened, because I knew that you did not car- 
ry a pistol.” 

Father Max and Jaqueline now went to the front 
door of the house, Father Max unlocked it, and they 
stole out into the street. No one in the neighborhood 
paid them any attention, and in less than half an hour 
they arrived at the girl’s home. 

“By tomorrow,” said Jaqueline, as they parted, “I 
shall probably know the date of the meeting of the Ger- 
man high command. You must come here tomorrow 
night at eight o’clock, and I will tell you. Tonight I 
am going to listen again at the sliding panel.” 

Saturday morning Martin Louvac inspected the 


202 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


base of his new chimney, and finding that the concrete 
had set sufficiently, he knocked away the boards of the 
box, and exposed the base to view, a fine, white block 
of smooth concrete, six feet long, two feet wide and 
two feet high. While he was complacently regarding 
the result of his labors. Father Max came from the bake- 
shop and joined him. 

“Isn’t that a good piece of work?” asked Louvac. 

“I never saw better,” answered Father Max. “But 
what is this small end of ribbon? I think that I have 
seen it before.” 

There was indeed a piece of narrow, pale blue rib- 
bon, three inches or so in length, which protruded from 
the concrete block, half way between the top and bot- 
tom, and two feet from one end. Father Max took it 
in his fingers and tore it off. 

“Papa Louvac, you old rascal,” declared he. “I 
know now what you did with the body of Zellner. This 
is a piece of Jaqueline’s neck ribbon which was torn off 
in the struggle and which was hanging to Zellner’s iron 
cross. Did you think for one moment that I believed 
your ingenious story of his resuscitation and departure? 
You should cut his epitaph upon this block. ‘Hie jacet 
Zellner,’ would be correct. You were going to chloro- 
form him gently if he came to himself too suddenly. 
Did you do so?” 

“Yes, I did give him a very small whiff. I had the 
best of intentions but, as soon as he had it, he straight- 
ened out as stiff as a board.” 


THE GREAT OFFENSIVE 


203 


“A very small whiff you say. It was probably a 
bellows full. By the by, how did you dispose of Zell- 
ner’s car? When I came back from taking Jaqueline 
home, it was gone.” 

“I drove it up one street, down another, and finally 
left it in front of Klapatsky’s bake shop. Klapatsky is 
a renegade polack, and has several times tried to do me 
an injury. He probably had difficulty in explaining how 
the car came in front of his place. In regard to the in- 
corporation of Zellner’s body in my chimney, I have to 
say that it was done at your own suggestion.” 

“Nonsense, I suggested nothing of the kind. I will 
acknowledge that the idea is a good one. I thought 
myself of locking him up till the war was over, as it 
never would have done to let him go free. He would 
have had us all shot next day. I never dreamed of your 
utilizing his remains in this manner, of your building 
your chimney upon the imperial dust of Zellner turned 
to clay.” 

“Didn’t you tell me when I was unloading the cement 
that I should put some relic or record at the bottom of 
the base, as they do in the corner stones of important 
buildings, something that would astonish people a hun- 
dred years from now, when they came to pull down my 
chimney ?” 

“Now that I recollect, I did say something of the 
kind. Papa Louvac, you are right as ever. I would 
advise you, though, never to let your women folk know 
what gruesome thing forms the foundation of your 


204 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


stack. If you do, they will never bake a loaf in your 
oven.” 

That night, at eight o’clock, Jaqueline admitted 
Father Max into the grounds of the chateau through 
the small green door in the garden wall. Her dark 
eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed with excite- 
ment. 

“What do you think, Father Max,” she exclaimed, 
“the meeting of the German high command is for to- 
night. Several important dignitaries have already ar- 
rived at the chateau in automobiles. Hurry, for the 
consultation may have already commenced. I trembled 
for fear that you wouldn't come.” 

The young clergyman divested himself of his cas- 
sock, his hat and his cane, and hung them upon the 
branches of a tree near the gate. 

“If they should discover us and we should get 
away,” said he, “I will be able to resume my religious 
covering, and so throw them off the track.” 

When they had come into the right wing of the 
chateau, they stole silently up the stairs, and along the 
passage to the room of the sliding panel. 

“We must be careful not to arouse the Countess/’ 
cautioned Jaqueline, “she would want to know all about 
it, and the excitement would be too much for her.” 

When the sliding panel was opened, the sound of a 
number of voices came to them from the floor of the 
grand salon. When they had crept along the balcony 
to the proper point, and had wriggled forward upon 


THE GREAT OFFENSIVE 


205 


their stomachs to the balustrade, they peered between 
the banisters, and saw that the meeting had already 
commenced, and that ten or a dozen bestarred and be- 
ribboned officers sat about the long oaken table. 

“I will tell you who they are,” whispered Father 
Max. “But I won’t guarantee that I am right, as I 
have only seen them in newspaper illustrations. Our 
old friend, Stollberg, sits at the head of the table, and 
presides over the meeting, by virtue of his position as 
host. There is no need of course of my introducing 
him to you. The lanky, pot-bellied fellow of thirty, 
with a long nose and a single glass in his eye, is un- 
doubtedly the German Crown prince, Friedrich Wil- 
helm. No one else here appears sufficiently vacuous 
and conceited. The big beef of a man at Stollberg’s 
left, that enlarged edition of Stollberg himself, with a 
broad, red, mottled face, a short, bristling moustache 
and large, watery, fish-like gray eyes is Field Marshal 
Von Hindenburg. The Crown Prince tries to act as 
if he doesn't see Hindenburg. There is no love lost 
between the two, and there is talk of an impending duel. 
Of course you have remarked our little friend, Stirpitz, 
sitting at the bottom of the table, with pens, ink and 
paper before him. He is doubtless acting as secretary 
of the meeting. The Lord preserve him, at least until 
I have my chance. The foxy looking, stolid, clean 
shaven man with gray blond hair, next to Hindenburg, 
is undoubtedly Field Marshal Von Ludendorf. The 
bearded fellow, with glasses, next to the Crown Prince, 


206 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


may be Von Holzendorf, Admiral of the German navy. 
The rest of them I don’t know. Don’t move, General 
Stollberg is going to speak.” 

General Stollberg, in fact, arose, took from his pock- 
et a pink envelope, removed its contents, and adjusted 
his glasses. 

“Gentlemen,” said he, “I have here a telegram from 
his Imperial Majesty, which he has been pleased to send 
me in regard to the meeting. You will notice that he 
has addressed me personally. I shall always preserve 
this communication from the All Highest as my most 
treasured possession. Gentlemen, I will read it.” 

“ 'General Baron Hugo Von Stollberg. I learn 
with pleasure that my high command, following my 
advice and instructions, has decided to lead my invin- 
cible armies against Paris on the fifteenth of the present 
month. So sure am I of the success of my victorious 
troops, that I herewith invite you, the members of my 
high command to dine with me at the Palace of Ver- 
sailles in Paris upon a date not later than the twenty- 
fifth. I shall come to the battlefield when the offensive 
of my noble troops is in full swing, and I, myself, will 
lead my successful cohorts into the captured city. For 
four years, fighting a purely defensive war, my glorious 
troops, under my leadership, have stood like a granite 
wall against the ferocious attacks of my enemies who 
are bent upon the destruction of my empire. Let us 
persevere in the holy enterprise which I have marked 
out for you. Your Kaiser and your country shall be 


THE GREAT OFFENSIVE 


207 


your watchword. Onward with God shall be your 
motto.’ AVilhelm.’ ” 

When General Stollberg had finished reading the 
Kaiser’s telegram, most of those present clapped their 
hands. The Crown Prince and Von Hindenburg made 
themselves conspicuous by failing to do so. 

“Marching onward with God is all right in its way,” 
remarked the irreverent Hindenburg, “but I have al- 
ways found more advantage in depending upon my own 
resources. I hardly think that we will be able to accept 
his Imperial Majesty’s invitation to dine with him at 
Versailles on the twenty-fifth. Paris is very strongly 
fortified, and it will take some time to reduce her forti- 
fications. By the twenty-fifth, though, we will without 
doubt get within easy [shelling distance of the city. 
When we drop a hundred thousand shells a day into 
the town, and kill half the women and children there, 
the French, who are already bled white, will sue for 
peace on bended knees. This offensive will cost a lot, 
but the objective is worth it. Let us then smash 
through, no matter what the expense. Some of our 
weak-kneed philanthropists object to the proposed of- 
fensive on the ground that it will cost us a great loss in 
man power. Suppose we do lose two or three hundred 
thousand men, what does it signify? What else are 
they for? The sooner we realize the fact that the com- 
mon soldier, the dummy of the rank and file, is solely 
fuel and fodder for the great German war machine, the 
sooner we will win. General Ludendorf, suppose we 
look over your plans.” 


208 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


Field Marshal Ludendorf opened his portfolio, 
spread upon the table several maps and type-written 
documents, and while he talked, indicated with his pen- 
cil upon the maps the different localities mentioned. 

“Our great offensive will start from three points.” 
declared he, “our left wing, after capturing Rheims, 
which will be an easy matter, will overwhelm Chalons 
and Epernay, thus putting itself on the direct high road 
to Paris. With our right we shall advance upon the 
French capital by way of Villers Cotteret and Buzancy, 
but the most important drive will be made by our cen- 
ter at Chateau Thierry. I have ascertained that this 
section of the Allied front is held solely by three or 
four divisions of the American troops, half trained 
levies of hawbucks who have been forced into the serv- 
ice by American capitalists. We will sweep them aside 
like chaff before the wind. We are then within forty 
miles of Paris, and further opposition to our advance, 
until we reach the actual fortifications of the city will be 
nominal.” 

“Admiral Holzendorf,” interpolated Von Hinden- 
burg, addressing that individual, “I hear on good 
authority that there are already over one million Ameri- 
can soldiers in France. A year ago, V on Capelle, your 
chief, the Minister of Marine, assured us that America 
couldn’t raise an army of any size, and that if she did 
get together a force of a few hundred thousand, your 
under sea boats would prevent them from landing in 
France. I would like to hear from you on the subject.” 


THE GREAT OFFENSIVE 


209 


“Our failure to prevent the transportation of Ameri- 
can troops is easily explained. Their ships can dis- 
embark anywhere from the Northern tip of Scotland 
to the Mediterranean coast of Italy, a shore line of over 
two thousand miles. How are we going to* torpedo 
these ships when we don’t know their destination ? Our 
spies in America have tried desperately to find this out 
for us, but the cowardly Yankee government circum- 
vents them by giving the ship masters sealed orders, 
which are only opened far out to sea. Outside of this, 
though, our under sea boats are performing wonders. 
Only yesterday we sank a British hospital ship which 
contained four hundred wounded British soldiers, two 
hundred of whom went to the bottom.” 

“Bah !” snorted Von Hindenburg, “that doesn’t get 
us anywhere. If you sink now and then a hospital 
ship, a fishing schooner, or a coal barge, you pat your- 
selves on the back, and think that you are winning the 
war. When you are able to come to me and tell me 
that you have sent to the bottom a United States trans- 
port with fifteen hundred or two thousand American 
troops, then, and not till then, will I allow that you 
have an excuse for existing.” 

Field Marshal Von Hindenburg’s conversational 
voice was like the roaring of a bull, and now and then, 
he pounded the table with his fists to emphasize his 
statements. 

“Gentlemen,” remarked the Crown Prince, who 
had, up to that moment, taken no part in the conversa- 
tion, “there is a certain question relating to this pro- 

14 


210 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


posed movement which should be settled now. It is my 
army alone which will undertake the great offensive. 
Therefore, I wish you to understand, gentlemen, that I 
propose to take all the credit of our victory. I propose 
to ride myself at the head of my gallant troops through 
the streets of Paris. I have already selected our march- 
ing route. We shall proceed up the Rue de Rivoli, 
alongside the gardens of the Tuilleries, we shall cross 
over by the Boulevard des Italiens, and come down the 
whole length of the Avenue de l’Opera. I want it dis- 
tinctly understood that I am the conqueror of Paris, 
that to me and to me alone belongs the credit for our 
success.” 

“Your Royal Highness,” asked Von Hindenburg, 
“did I understand you to say that you proposed to lead 
your troops in person in the proposed offensive?” 

“When I talked of leading my troops,” answered 
Friedrich Wilhelm, haughtily, “I was speaking figura- 
tively. I shall direct their operations from my present 
headquarters at St. Quentin.” 

“That is better, your Royal Highness, St. Quentin 
is all of forty miles from the nearest point of the Allied 
defense. At St. Quentin your Royal Highness would 
be far removed from the whine of bullets and the 
scream of shells. Our fears for your safety will be 
relieved.” 

“What do you mean by that?” asked the Crown 
Prince, reddening and adjusting his monocle. 

“Nothing more than I said,” answered Von Hin- 
denburg, grimly. 


CHAPTER XV 
Death for Jaqueline 

At that moment, Father Max, chancing to look at 
Jaqueline, saw that her face was contorted with the 
most ridiculous grimace. 

“What is the matter, Jaqueline?” he whispered, 
fearfully. 

His question was immediately answered by a terrific 
sneeze, a sneeze which was all the louder and more 
violent because she had repressed it so long. The 
caution given her by her brother, Paul, had been pro- 
phetic, yet unavailing. She had resolved never to 
sneeze, no matter what else she did, and now she had 
gone and done it. 

At the unlooked for and startling sound, every man 
at the table sprang to his feet. 

“Who was that?” roared Von Plindenburg, gazing 
up at the balcony. 

General Stollberg pounded a gong which stood at 
his elbow, and at once, three orderlies rushed into the 
salon. 

“Jaqueline,” whispered Father Max, “get to the 
sliding panel at once. You must be quicker than you 
have ever been before in all your life. I will hold them 

211 


212 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


back until you are through. They mustn’t see you or 
find the panel.” 

While Jaqueline stole through the balcony behind 
the bookcases, Father Max arose to his feet and, with 
his hands upon the balustrade, faced the astonished 
crowd. 

“Guten abend, Meine herren,” said he, suavely. 

“Get that man!” ordered Von Hindenburg, in a 
stentorian voice. 

Two of the orderlies ran up one balcony stairway, 
and the third took the other. When they were halfway 
up, Father Max swung himself over the rail, and 
dropped to the floor below. At this, all three turned, 
ran down the stairs, and rushed upon him. He side- 
stepped the assault of the single man, took him by the 
shoulders, and accelerating his already powerful rush, 
drove him against the other two, with the result that 
all three came to the floor in a tangle of bodies, legs, 
and arms. In the midst of a fusilade of pistol shots 
from the officers at the table, he dashed toward the 
right hand door under the balcony, jerked it open, and 
passed into the smoking room. From the smoking 
room he ran into the billiard room, and smashing out a 
whole window frame with a billiard cue, he dove into 
the small, fenced in space in the rear of the main body 
of the chateau. As he was going over the top of the 
close board fence, his enemies were just looking from 
the billiard room windows. It was an easy matter now 
for him to course down through the chateau grounds, 


DEATH FOR JAQUELINE 


213 


keeping along the stone wall and under the trees and 
shrubs, to recover his priestly habiliments, to climb the 
wall and drop down into the alleyway. 

“Jaqueline must have got through the panel open- 
ing safely/’ thought he. “They will never know that 
she was present at the meeting. It will be wise not to 
call upon her until two or three days have gone by. I 
must keep suspicion from falling upon her at all haz- 
ards.” 

On Sunday morning, Father Max and Martin 
Louvac went across the city to the inn of the Golden 
Fleece to visit Pierre Mouchard. The tavern was bare 
of customers, and the three men sat down in one of the 
booths of the wine room. Father Max lighted his pipe, 
the two Frenchmen shared a bottle of vin ordinaire, and 
Father Max told his story. 

He described the appearance of the different mem- 
bers of the German high command who had attended 
the meeting of the night before at the Keranec chateau, 
and gave their names according to the best of his belief. 

“The next great German offensive will be made 
toward Paris,” he concluded, “it will start from three 
points, Soissons, Chateau Thierry and Rheims, and will 
commence on the fifteenth of this month. Having ac- 
quired this exact knowledge of the German plans, what 
is our next step? Is there nothing we can do in the 
matter?” 

“Our one and only duty,” answered Pierre Mou- 
chard, “is to get this information to our friends, the 


214 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


Allies. If there is no other way, I will attempt myself 
to pass the lines and deliver the message.” 

“It will he unnecessary, good Monsieur Mouchard. 
Jaqueline will attend to that. At midnight, tonight, she 
will send that message from the roof of the chateau 
Keranec by two carrier pigeons. She has had the 
pigeons ready for several days. I was thinking that 
there might be something else in regard to the matter 
which we might do, aside from sending the message.” 

“I see nothing else in prospect but to wait and 
hope,” said Martin Louvac. 

The three men now arose from the table, Father 
Max and Martin Louvac left the inn, and Mouchard 
went toward the door of the serving room. Just at 
that moment, he caught sight of a small shoe under the 
bottom of the closed curtains of the corner booth, the 
booth next to that where he and his friends had been 
sitting. He went to the booth, jerked the curtains aside 
and exposed to view Colette, who was sitting at the 
table and making a pretense of knitting. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked angrily. 

“I am knitting, Uncle Pierre.” 

“Why should you choose to knit in the dark ? How 
long have you been here?” 

“I came here but a moment or two since.” 

“I don’t believe you. I think that you came here to 
listen, that you were here all the time that Father Max 
was talking. Now mark me, Colette, if I ever hear that 
you have told one word of what you heard here today, 


215 


DEATH FOR JAQUELINE 

I will give you a beating that you will remember to 
your dying hour.” 

Colette picked up her knitting, and went out of the 
room. When she deemed it safe to do so, she thrust out 
her tongue at Mouchard. 

It was Monday morning, Father Max was eating 
breakfast with Mama Lou vac and his wife. The young 
clergyman seemed to be worried and preoccupied. 

“Father Max,” spoke Louvac, “I would be willing 
to bet a twenty franc piece against two sous that I can 
tell what you are thinking about.” 

“What am I thinking about?” 

“You are thinking about Jaqueline, and wonder- 
ing that we do not hear from her.” 

“‘You are right. We should have had some word 
from her yesterday. As we had none, she should have 
put in an appearance this morning. I am beginning to 
be very anxious about the dear girl. I think that I will 
go to the chateau presently, and scout about the place, 
until I can satisfy myself about her.” 

“I think that it would be better if I went in your 
place,” declared Martin Louvac. “Stollberg and his 
men may have had such a good look at you Saturday 
night that they will recognize you when they see you 
lingering about the place this morning. I will go to 
the tradesmen’s and servants’ entrance, beyond the 
porte cochere in the left wing of the chateau and en- 
quire for General Stollberg’s quartermaster. We have 
several times supplied the chateau with my baked goods. 


216 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMRRAI 


I will commence by talking business. If anything has 
happened, it will come out during the conversation.” 

It being agreed that Martin Louvac should go upon 
this scouting expedition, the worthy baker put on his 
hat, and left the shop. It was eleven o’clock when he 
returned. He had been gone fully two hours and a 
half. Father Max stood at the street door of the shop 
all that time, waiting anxiously for Louvac’s appear- 
ance. As the minutes dragged along into hours, his 
heart sank, and his mind became filled with the most 
gloomy apprehensions. When Martin Louvac finally 
turned the corner, and came toward the shop, his ap- 
pearance did nothing to allay the fears of Father Max. 
He seemed more round-shouldered than ever, his gaze 
was bent upon the ground, and he acted altogether as 
if he had lost his best friend. 

“Well, what did you find ?” demanded Father Max, 
seizing Louvac’s arm. “Has anything happened to 
Jaqueline, is she safe and well?” 

Martin Louvac answered nothing, but led Father 
Max into the shop and closed the door. 

“The most terrible thing has happened,” answered 
Louvac in a low tone, at the same time glancing fur- 
tively about the shop, which was fortunately empty of 
customers. “Our worst fears have come true. Jaque- 
line was arrested last night as a spy, she was tried by 
court martial early today, and sentenced to be shot to- 
morrow morning at sunrise.” 

Father Max gazed at Louvac with a fixed stare. 


DEATH FOR JAQUELINE 


217 


The shock was so great that he could find no words at 
first with which to express his feelings. 

“Where have they put her?” he at length managed 
to ask. 

“In the conciergerie prison back of the Hotel de 
Ville. I had my information from a fellow named 
‘Schlosser’ who is the quartermaster’s assistant. Sev- 
eral men were hidden behind the chimneys of the cha- 
teau roof, and surprised Jaqueline toward midnight, as 
she was about to release her pigeons. It looks to me as 
if someone had betrayed her. As the soldiers rushed 
upon her, the brave girl threw the birds into the air, so 
that her task was accomplished after all. The Allied 
commander by this time is acquainted with the German 
plans, but that is poor consolation if we have to lose 
our beloved Jaqueline.” 

“Is it possible, Papa Louvac, to communicate with 
Jaqueline, so as to let her know that we are aware of 
her danger?” 

“She already knows. After I had finished with 
Schlosser, I lingered about the street in front of the 
chateau, and saw her taken from the building, and 
driven away in a motor car. I managed to put myself 
in her way, and attract her attention. I signalled to 
her, she motioned to me in return. She even smiled.” 

“That was good, very good. The darling girl is 
now certain that her friends are awake, and that they 
will move Heaven and earth to help her. That should 
cheer her and prevent her from giving way to despair. 


218 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAM BRAT 


What have they done with the old Countess Mathilde 
de Keranec? Is she still in the chateau?” 

“Father Max, you have been tricked again. There 
is no old Countess. The Countess, Mathilde de Keranec 
went away from the chateau in the year 1914. She is 
now either dead, or in Paris. The only occupants of 
the chateau since then have been Jaqueline and her old 
housekeeper.” 

“But I saw the old lady herself, not a week ago. I 
talked with her, as she lay in bed in her chamber.” 

“You talked with Jaqueline, who was made up to 
represent the Countess. I don't see why she carried the 
jest so far. It was not my business to tell you the 
truth, if she failed to do so.” 

“That makes twice that she has fooled me. I am 
certainly very dense and stupid. What an adorable 
minx ! Who could find it in his heart to even scold her 
for her mischief? What have they done to the old 
servant ?” 

“They questioned her, and pricked her full of bay- 
onet holes to get her to tell what she knew. Beyond 
finding out about Jaqueline’ s impersonation of the old 
Countess, they learned nothing. Old Rachael, I think, 
must be pretty well spent.” 

“What is to be done for Jaqueline, Papa Louvac? 
That is the question. We propose to rescue her, do we 
not ? That is fully settled and agreed upon. There are 
to be no ‘ifs’ or ‘ands’ about it.” 

“Of course. That goes without question. I can’t 


219 


DEATH FOR JAQUEJLINE 

think of any way now, but, if the worst comes to the 
worst, you, Brother Mouchard and 1 will take our 
automatics, fill our pockets with cartridges, and storm 
the prison.” 

“We would all three be killed, and we would ac- 
complish nothing. Nevertheless, I will be with you, if 
it comes to the final reckoning. I have been thinking 
of another plan. Perhaps it will work, and perhaps not. 
I am going to interview General Stollberg. Get me 
your automatic, a handful of cartridges and that small 
bottle of chloroform which you held under Zellner’s 
nose, and I’ll go right away.” 

“You are not going to shoot Stollberg? Perhaps 
you mean only to threaten him, and obtain an order for 
Jaqueline’s release at the pistol’s point.” 

“Pm going to do neither. Shooting would be too 
good for the old scoundrel, anyway. Pm going to get 
permission from Stollberg to visit Jaqueline at the 
prison. When I get into the prison, a lot of things may 
happen.” 

“Father Max, your words are full of consolation. 
If you once get into the conciergerie, the devil and all 
can’t keep you from getting Jaqueline out. I will fetch 
you the pistol and the chloroform at once. When you 
depart, I will go for Brother Mouchard. He has a 
friend who is a guard in the conciergerie, a man with a 
German name who is really a Frenchman. He is one 
of the great body of secret agents who are serving 
France in German occupied territory. Brother Mou- 


220 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


chard and I will put our heads together, and invent 
some plan to take the place of yours, if you should 
fail.” 

Martin Louvac went behind his counter, and pres- 
ently brought Father Max the articles which he had 
asked for. The latter stuffed the pistol and cartridges 
in one pocket of his cassock, dropped the bottle of chlo- 
roform into the other, and' prepared to take his depar- 
ture. He gripped Louvac’s hand, and the two men 
shook as if they never meant to let go, as if they never 
expected to see each other again. 

“If you see our dear little Jaqueline, give her my 
love/ 1 said Louvac. “Tell her that brother Mouchard 
and I are moving Heaven and earth for her release.’’ 

“I surely will. Papa Louvac, I shall save Jaqueline, 
or die with her.” 

The two men now left the bake shop and went in 
opposite directions, Father Max to the Chateau Ker- 
anec, and Martin Louvac to the inn of the Golden 
Fleece. When Louvac came into the tavern, his dole- 
ful look told Mouchard at once that something had 
gone wrong. 

“What is it?” asked Pierre Mouchard, when be had 
taken his brother-in-law into the serving room, and 
given him a barrel to sit upon. 

Louvac told the whole story over again, the story 
of Jaqueline’s arrest, her court martial, the sentence of 
the court, and her removal to the conciergerie. 

“When she went to the chateau roof to send away 


DEATH FOR JAQUELINE 221 

her carrier pigeons, half a dozen men were waiting for 
her,” he added. “Someone must have betrayed her. 
Otherwise how could the Germans know about Jaque- 
line and her pigeons?” 

“How could they know, indeed? Yes, she was 
betrayed, and I think I can lay my hands upon the per- 
son who betrayed her. That can wait, however. Our 
present business is to work for Jaqueline. It is im- 
possible that such a handsome little patriot should die. 
Have you any plan to recommend?” 

“Father Max will try to get a permit from General 
Stollberg to visit Jaqueline in her prison. If he once 
gets in there, anything is likely to happen. He is truly 
a devil of a fellow. I don’t suppose, though, that 1 
should say that about a priest. Meanwhile, you and I 
are to put our heads together, and see if we can do 
something with the aid of that man Held, your friend 
who is a guard in the prison.” 

When the two men had talked for an hour longer, 
Martin Louvac took his departure. Whether they had 
evolved a plan for the rescue of Jaqueline, and whether 
that plan was a meritorious one, does not appear, for 
the reason that there was never an opportunity for put- 
ting it into execution. After Martin Louvac had gone, 
Pierre Mouchard sought after Colette, and at last found 
her in her own bed chamber. 

“Colette,” said he, sternly, “I have come to tell you 
that you are going to have that beating which I prom- 
ised you yesterday. You have betrayed Jaqueline to 


222 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


the Germans, she has been court martialed, and is to be 
shot tomorrow morning at sunrise.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” answered Colette, 
defiantly. “I have said nothing about Jaqueline to any- 
body.” 

“If you didn't say it, you wrote it. You were the 
only person, aside from Father Max, Brother Louvac 
and me, who knew about Jaqueline and her pigeons. 
You are the only one who could have betrayed her. 
You wicked girl. Jaqueline's little finger is worth more 
than your whole body. I should really kill you, in- 
stead, I will give you such a beating as never was given 
before.” 

Pierre Mouchard went out of the room, shut the 
door, locked it and put the key in his pocket. After he 
was gone, Colette threw herself upon the bed and com- 
menced to sniff. From sniffing she went to sobbing, 
and from sobbing, to a veritable flood of tears. She 
was filled with poignant sorrow and pity, but her pity 
was all for herself. 

After she had exhausted her watery reservoir, she 
lay silent and motionless, thinking, thinking. She had 
felt Uncle Mouchard’s leather belt more than once be- 
fore, and she had no misconceptions upon the subject. 
She was tired of his restrictions anyway, and she pic- 
tured to herself a life more free and more filled with 
pleasure. Presently she arose, undressed herself, 
washed those parts of her face, neck, hands and ears 
which would show beyond her clothing, dressed her- 


DEATH FOR JAQUELINE 


223 


self in all her finery, did tip her hair elaborately and 
powdered her nose. Having tied up the rest of her 
belongings in a large, silk, patchwork table cover, she 
tossed the bundle out of the window, straddled the 
window sill, let herself down outside of it until she hung 
by her hands, and dropped to the ground below. In 
this manner Colette Mouchard disappears for good and 
all from the story. 


CHAPTER XVI 
Making Stirpitz Useful 

At about the time when Father Max came to the 
Keranec chateau, the door of Jaqueline’s rather spacious 
cell in the conciergerie opened, and General Baron 
Hugo Von Stollberg, resplendent in his latest and most 
imposing uniform, newly shaved, with his moustache 
waxed and twisted and his hair plastered over the bald 
spot on top of his head, came into the room. Jaqueline, 
who had been lying upon the bed, arose and sat upon 
the edge of it. 

“Why have you come here?” she asked coldly. 

“My dear young lady,” he answered in an unctious 
tone, “why should I come, unless to help and save you? 
I have been thinking about you all these long and weary 
hours. Perhaps I will be able to have you set free. I 
have a proposition to make to you.” 

“In other words you want something. What is it?” 

“My dear Mademoiselle Jaqueline, you must not 
be so harsh in your reception of my advances. There 
is, though, one little thing which you might do for me.” 

“Naturally, otherwise you wouldn’t have come to 
me. Well, I am waiting. Please say what you want, 
and have done with it.” 

“My dear girl, why will you be so cold and repel- 


224 


MAKING STIRPITZ USEFUL 


225 


lent, when I am here solely in your interests, that is 
to say, almost altogether in your interests? You will 
remember, Jaqueline, you pretty little witch, how you 
fooled and tricked me by impersonating the old Coun- 
tess Mathilde de Keranec?” 

“ Certainly I remember. I remember too, that you 
swallowed my make-believe like a big, hungry fish swal- 
lowing the bait.” 

“Ah, Jaqueline, my pretty dear, you are an extra- 
ordinarily bright, smart girl. You will remember, 
also, that you held back a certain number of cases of 
the Keranec wines in order to insure my good behavior, 
though that wasn’t at all necessary. Now I am going 
to exert myself all possible to obtain your release, and 
I have no doubt of my success. You, however, must 
do your part. One good turn deserves another. You 
must tell me where those other ninety-six cases are 
hidden.” 

“Ah, that is what you want. You agree then to set 
me free, if I tell you where to find them?” 

“I swear it upon my honor as a German officer.” 

“I didn’t know that such a thing existed. I will 
want better security than that.” 

“I call God to witness that I will keep my promise. 
That surely should be sufficient.” 

“That is very little better. You Germans have a 
way of calling upon God at any and all times. You act 
as if you were on familiar terms with the Supreme Be- 
ing, and you use him for a convenience. When you 

15 


226 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


call upon him the loudest, we know that you are about 
to do something* particularly awful. I really should 
keep my secret until you have set me free. After all 
though, that would make very little difference, as I 
would still be in your power. I will tell you where the 
wine is hidden. Like truth you will find it at the bot- 
tom of a well. There is an old well in the garden of 
the Chateau Keranec. It is there that you must look.” 

“But that is nonsense. You are still playing with 
me. How could ninety-six cases of wine be hidden at 
the bottom of any well?” 

“You must go to the middle of the south garden 
wall. At the foot of the wall, just above the ground, 
you will find a small recess in the stone work, across 
which runs an iron pipe. In this pipe there is a shut off 
or stop cock. Turn the lever lengthwise of the pipe, 
and the water will run out of the well, leaving it com- 
pletely dry. Where the water goes to is not material. 
You will then send a man to the bottom of the well, 
and he will find an iron door at one side of it. When 
he opens the door, he will discover a flight of stone 
steps which lead upwards to a square chamber. In this 
chamber he will find the ninety-six cases of wine.” 

General von Stollberg, his eyes gleaming with the 
light of triumph and pleasure, started for the cell door. 

“Where are you going?” asked Jaqueline. “When 
may I expect my release?” 

“I am going to verify your instructions,” answered 
the General. “I will be back very soon. If you have 


MAKING STIRPITZ USEFUL 227 

told me the truth about the wine, I will immediately 
attend to your case.” 

Two hours went by before General Stollberg re- 
turned. When he came into Jaqueline’s cell, his head 
was bent, and his face wore a lugubrious and funereal 
expression. 

“What is the matter?” asked the girl. “Haven’t 
you found the wine?” 

“Yes,” answered the General, sadly. “That part of 
it is all right. Everything was just as you said. It is 
my part of the bargain that worries me. I find it im- 
possible to keep my share of the agreement.” 

“It is about what I expected. You will now per- 
haps agree with me in my estimate of the value of the 
honor of a German officer. Also I see that you meant 
nothing when you called upon God to witness your 
promise.” 

“But my dear child, it is not my fault. I will tell 
you the truth. When I made that rash promise, I 
depended upon the clemency of; his Imperial Majesty. 
I was practically certain that I could obtain from him 
your pardon. When I went out of here, I telegraphed 
him at once, before even I had proved the truth of your 
directions. I have just received the Emperor’s answer. 
He refuses positively to grant your pardon.” 

“Suppose you let me see the Kaiser’s telegram.” 

“My dear Mademoiselle Jaqueline, that is impos- 
sible. His Imperial Majesty’s communications are not 
shown by their recipients.” 


228 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“The whole thing amounts to this: that you have 
shamefully broken your solemn word.” 

“Technically, yes, my dear girl, but you must allow 
that my intentions were of the best. Even now, there 
is a way out of it. I haven’t by any means given up 
hope of saving you. I have another proposition to 
make.” 

“Oh, so you want something more. I can’t imagine 
what else I have that you can desire.” 

“My dear child, I do wish that you would be less 
severe and sarcastic in your reception of my kindly 
meant offers. I will tell you now, once and for all, that 
I am opposed upon principle to shooting a handsome 
girl of twenty, when there are so many ugly old women 
crawling about who might better be put out of the way. 
I don’t propose to have you shot, if I can avoid it.” 

“You haven’t told me yet what further thing you 
want of me. It must be something of value, or you 
wouldn’t start with so long a preamble.” 

“What I want has nothing to do with it. It is your 
interest alone I am looking after. Listen, Mademoi- 
selle Jaqueline, this is my plan. I will make a pretense 
of carrying your sentence into effect. Instead of shoot- 
ing you, I will shoot some other woman. No one will 
ever know the difference. There are a dozen of them 
in the conciergerie at the present moment, some for los- 
ing their identification cards, some for failing to pay 
their share of the last German tax imposed upon the 
city. Any one of them would do. Tomorrow night, 


MAKING STIRPITZ USEFUL 


229 


when it is good and dark, I will take you in my 
closed car to the chateau, and install you in the best 
suite which it contains, the blue and gold suite for in- 
stance. I will have a modiste come on from Berlin, 
and fit you out with all manner of beautiful gowns and 
hats. Better still, I will bring a costumer from Paris. 
That will not be so difficult as you think, for we shall 
undoubtedly capture the city within the month. After 
several weeks have passed, I shall marry you. That, 
of course, will be necessary in order to preserve your 
reputation.” 

“And if I refuse to take part in your scheme?” 

“If you refuse, you will be shot at sunrise to- 
morrow.” 

“Very well, I refuse,” said Jaqueline, speaking 
calmly, and regarding him with a level glance. “In 
the first place, I don’t believe that you would ever marry 
me. In the second place, I wouldn’t marry you any- 
way, if I were to be shot the next minute.” 

“Mademoiselle,” cried the General, his face red- 
dening with anger, “you are insulting. I shall make 
you no further propositions, I shall no longer interest 
myself in your favor. I will now leave you to your 
own reflections. You have about twelve hours only 
in which to repent of your obstinacy.” 

When General Von Stollberg had gone, Jaqueline 
sat upon the chair which he had occupied, and, with her 
arm upon the chair back and her chin upon her hand, 
sent her thoughts traveling through prison walls to the 


230 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


friends whom she held most dear. One would think 
that she ought to have been plunged into the depths of 
despair, but she was not. Sometimes, even, a smile 
dimpled her cheek. The secret of her cheerfulness lay 
in the fact that she was repeating over and over to her- 
self the following simple sentences : 

“Father Max knows that I am here.” 

“Father Max loves me.” 

“Father Max will rescue me.” 

“Father Max never fails.” 

When General von Stollberg returned in his car to 
the Chateau Keranec, Father Max had been kicking his 
heels for two hours in an ante-chamber next the salon. 
When the General had taken his seat at the oaken 
table, the young priest was brought before him. Gen- 
eral Stollberg had no liking for priests. They always 
wanted him to do something which he didn’t want to 
do. They always wanted clemency for some poor devil 
or other who was the victim of the General’s dis- 
pleasure. 

“Well, what do you want?” he asked gruffly. 

“I came,” answered Father Max, meekly, “to ask 
for a permit to visit a young woman, named ‘Jaqueline 
Benoit,’ who is confined in the conciergerie prison, un- 
der sentence of death. I have been for some time her 
spiritual adviser, and I naturally wish to give her the 
consolation and the last rites of the church.” 

“I don’t see that it is necessary, Mr. Preacher. She 
is a spy, and is not to be seen by anybody.” 


MAKING STIRPITZ USEFUL 


231 


“You surely would not have her die unconfessed 
and un shrived.” 

“Look here, Father, whatever your name is, this 
girl has been very refractory. I made her several ad- 
vances looking to help her, but she spurned my offers 
with harsh words, she has been defiant and saucy. Cold 
lead is the medicine best suited for such a woman.” 

Father Max saw an opening and, as usual, immedi- 
ately went for it upon the jump. 

“Perhaps,” said he, “I might be able to bring her to 
a realizing sense of your kindness. Perhaps I could 
induce her to agree with you.” 

“Do you really think so?” 

“Why not? She has always listened to my advice 
both as to matters material and matters spiritual.” 

General von Stollberg looked at the priest specula- 
tively for a long moment, then brought his fist down 
upon the table. 

“Fll be hanged if I don’t try it,” said he, “I made 
Mademoiselle Jaqueline a certain proposition which she 
contemptuously rejected. I proposed to her that I 
would pretend to have her sentence carried out, I would 
have another woman shot in her place, and have it ar- 
ranged so that no one would ever know the difference. 
At night, I would bring her in my closed car to the 
chateau, and would install her in the finest suite of the 
building. I would send to Berlin for a costumer, and 
have her fitted out with gowns and hats. Furthermore, 
I assured her that I would marry her in due time, that 


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MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


is to say, after several weeks had gone by, and people 
had forgotten about her/’ 

While General von Stollberg was enumerating these 
several favors which he had offered to bestow upon the 
ungrateful Jaqueline, Father Max gripped the auto- 
matic in his pocket so hard that it hurt. If the General 
had been a mind reader, he would have seen that his 
life at that moment hung by a thread. 

“And you say, your excellency, that this most fav- 
orable offer was rejected by the young woman?” 

“Rejected is a mild word. She spurned it rather. 
What do you think of my proposition, could I have been 
more fair and liberal?” 

“It is my opinion, your excellency, that it is better 
for any young woman to make an advantageous mar- 
riage such as you propose, than to stand before a firing 
squad.” 

Father Max, since his coming to Cambrai, had told 
several lies, when a lie had seemed to him more appro- 
priate than the truth, never, though, had he told as big 
a lie as this one. 

“Father Max,” declared the General, “I think that 
was the name you gave, you are a man of sense and 
discretion. All the priests I have met hitherto have had 
skulls of ivory, but your head-piece seems to have been 
constructed differently. You have my permission to 
interview Mademoiselle Jaqueline, and I will write out 
the order to the governor of the prison immediately. My 
aide, Lieutenant Stirpitz, will go with you and will take 


MAKING STIRPITZ USEFUL 


233 


the order. I propose to have Lieutenant Stirpitz pres- 
ent with you in the cell when you are talking with the 
young woman. Some of you priests are as slippery as 
eels, and I think it wise to take this small precaution." 

“Your excellency, I have no objection whatever to 
the presence of Lieutenant Stirpitz during my conver- 
sation with Mademoiselle Jaqueline.” 

When Father Max first heard that Stirpitz was to 
be with him in Jaqueline’s cell, he looked upon it as a 
misfortune. As he thought about the matter, however, 
it rather seemed a godsend than a misfortune. 

Already a plan for using Stirpitz was unrolling in 
his mind, a plan of immense possibilities. General von 
Stollberg touched a bell, an orderly appeared, and was 
sent for Lieutenant Stirpitz. 

“Lieutenant,” said the General, when the young 
officer appeared, “Father Max here has my permission 
to visit Jaqueline Benoit, the young woman who is con- 
fined in the conciergerie under sentence of death. You 
will accompany Father Max to the prison, and you 
will remain in the cell during the entire interview. 
Furthermore, you will bring me an exact account of 
everything said by both Father Max and the young 
woman. Here is the order upon the governor of the 
prison.” 

Lieutenant Stirpitz took the order and saluted. 
Father Max bowed himself, and the pair left the audi- 
ence chamber and got into a motor car which was 
standing in front of the chateau. Lieutenant Stirpitz, 


234 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAM BRA I 


as the car moved away, looked at his companion with 
amusement and disdain. It was the first time he had 
ever ridden with a priest, and the idea of it struck him 
as being a very humorous one. It looked as if others 
thought so too. Several officer friends of Stirpitz 
whom they encountered on the way to the prison 
pointed at the strangely assorted pair, and laughed up- 
roariously. 

Father Max regarded his companion speculatively 
and with a feeling of pleasure. He remembered the 
boy whom Stirpitz had so cruelly maltreated, and de- 
cided that the time had come for a settlement. The 
more Father Max looked at Stirpitz, the more his en- 
joyment grew. He was forming great plans for the 
young officer. Plans which boded no good for his 
health, happiness or reputation. 

“Herr Leitnant,” said Father Max, presently, “the 
more I look at you, the more I am convinced that you 
are the exact image of a certain very exalted and dis- 
tinguished personage.” 

“Do you think so, Father ?” asked the officer, 
grinning with pleasure, and adjusting his monocle 
so as to get a better look at this agreeable priest. “Who 
is the lucky dog who resembles me?” 

“Friedrich Wilhelm, the German Crown Prince, of 
course. When I look at you, it is hard to believe that 
his Royal Highness is not sitting beside me. Flave you 
never been told before of the extraordinary likeness 
which you bear to his Royal Highness?” 


MAKING STIRPITZ USEFUL 


235 


“Yaas, certainly, lots of beggars have taken me for 
the Prince. It’s all kinds' of a bother and a nuisance, you 
know.” 

Father Max could not have chosen a better method 
of ingratiating himself with his foppish companion, 
and putting him off his guard. From that time forth, 
Lieutenant Stirpitz was most agreeable and complaisant. 
For a priest, Father Max was almost like a gentleman. 
This priest wasn’t like other priests. 

When they arrived at the conciergerie, and Stirpitz 
had presented the General’s order to the governor of 
the prison who sat at a desk in the main corridor, just 
inside the great outside doors, they were taken by one 
of the guards to Jaqueline’s cell. When Father Max 
and Lieutenant Stirpitz entered the gloomy chamber, 
Jaqueline, who had been sitting upon the edge of the 
bed, sprang to her feet, with outstretched arms, and 
with a look of joy upon her face. Father Max who 
was in advance, and whose six feet of well -developed 
body interfered with the Lieutenant’s view, put his fin- 
ger to his lips, and the girl, repressing at once the ex- 
pression of her feelings, subsided again upon her couch. 
The young priest now standing aside, Stirpitz fixed his 
monocle in his eye, and regarded Jaqueline with a fatu- 
ous stare. 

“I see,” said Father Max, “that the guard has left 
the cell door open, and that he stands within listening 
distance. General von Stollberg wished you, Lieu- 
tenant Stirpitz, to be present at our interview, but the 


236 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


guard was not included in the bargain. With your 
permission I will close the door.” 

“Shut it, if you want to,” acquiesced the lieutenant, 
carelessly. 

Father Max went to the cell door, and seemed to 
take a long time in shutting and latching it securely. 
He was really occupied, though, in saturating his hand- 
kerchief with chloroform. He now came up to Stir- 
pitz, whose back was toward him. As he reached the 
officer's side, he curled his right arm around his neck 
and, with his left hand, jammed the handkerchief 
against his nose and mouth. Stirpitz struggled like a 
wildcat, but it was perfectly useless, he was like a kid 
in the claws of a tiger. His efforts grew weaker, in 
less than ten seconds, his body became limp and flaccid, 
and he hung, like a straw stuffed scarecrow, in the 
grasp of the priest. Father Max threw the dummy- 
like tody upon the bed, and proceeded with lightning- 
like rapidity to divest it of cape, jacket, trousers, toots, 
sabre tache and kepi. 

“Take these,” said he to Jaqueline, “and put them 
on. This is my scheme, and it is our only chance. 
You must undress and dress more quickly than you 
have ever done in all your life. We have only a few 
minutes, and every moment is precious. Go into that 
corner to the right of the door, and I will look the 
other way.” 

Jaqueline obediently took the several articles of 
clothing and went into the corner indicated, Father 


MAKING STIRPITZ USEFUL 


237 


Max turned his back upon her, and occupied himself 
with the body of the lieutenant, turning his face to the 
wall, and pulling the bed clothing over him, so that 
only the back of his head was visible. All during this 
time the rustling of skirts and other mysterious sounds 
came to him from Jaqueline’s corner. When scarcely 
five minutes had passed, he heard a quick step behind 
him, and a hand touched his arm. He turned about, 
and beheld, standing before him and saluting in true 
soldierly style, the smartest, trimmest, handsomest 
young German officer imaginable. 

“How do you like me?” she asked, naively. 

“Jaqueline !” he exclaimed in astonished admira- 
tion. “You are a wonder, you are perfect. Hold your- 
self like that, and salute like that, and we will get 
through swimmingly. We must be in a hurry, though, 
and we must be exceedingly careful. The slightest 
blunder will ruin us. Go over to the bed now and bend 
over the body of Stirpitz. Stirpitz is supposed to be 
you, and you are Stirpitz. I am going to transact a 
little business with the guard who stands outside the 
door.” 

Father Max went to the door, opened it, and spoke 
to the guard. 

“Lieutenant Stirpitz wants you,” said he. 

The guard, unsuspectingly, came into the cell, and 
walked toward the metamorphosed Jaqueline, who was 
bending over the bed with her back toward him. Father 
Max shut the cell door, and followed him, at the same 
time, recharging his handkerchief from the chloroform 


238 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


bottle. Before the guard reached Jaqueline, Father 
Max had him garroted, and was pressing the handker- 
chief to his mouth and nostrils. He was a stout, wicked 
fellow, and gave Father Max a lot of trouble, before he 
was finally rendered helpless. When he had slid to the 
pavement, Father Max took his keys, and fitting them 
to the lock, found the right one. 

“Now/’ said he to Jaqueline, “the decisive moment 
has come. We have to walk past several guards and 
past the governor of the prison, who sits at a desk in 
the corridor just this side of the prison entrance. Don’t 
hurry. Walk carelessly and coolly. As you pass the 
governor’s desk, salute, as you did just now. Salute 
also, if we meet any officer. Here we go. Steady 
now.” 

He opened the door, they passed into the corridor, 
and he closed and locked the door, putting the keys in 
his pocket. Jaqueline took hold of the priest’s arm, as 
if she had him in custody, and they walked without 
haste and with a look of unconcern toward the main 
exit. They passed several guards who took no notice 
of them. When they came to the governor’s desk. 
Father Max shielded Jaqueline with his body. The 
governor looked up for a fraction of a second, Jaque- 
line saluted beautifully, and the governor bent again 
over his papers. As they went out of the prison, an 
officer was coming up the steps, Jaqueline saluted 
again, and now they were outside of the gaol and she 
was free. 


CHAPTER XVII 

Six Silver Candlesticks 

Their danger upon the street was greater than in 
the prison. It was dark in the corridors of the con- 
ciergerie, the guards had seen a young officer come in 
with a priest. When that same priest went out with a 
young officer, the fact aroused no attention. By light 
of day in the streets it was different. Jaqueline made 
such a darling of an officer that she was sure to attract 
the gaze of anyone they met. If people looked at her 
closely enough they would see that the hair under her 
kepi was trained up instead of down. 

When they came down the prison steps, they walked 
away from the Hotel de Ville, instead of toward it. 
There were always a dozen German officers loitering 
at the Hotel de Ville entrance. Several times they met 
soldiers, and once they met an officer. The soldiers 
gave them no trouble, but with the officer it was dif- 
ferent. Though Father Max kept himself between the 
officer and Jaqueline, and though Jaqueline saluted in 
the best military style, something about the pair seemed 
to attract his attention, and he looked at them very 
sharply. When they had gone a hundred feet, Father 
Max glanced over his shoulder, and saw that the man 

239 


240 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


had halted, and was looking back at them. However, 
nothing more than this came of it. While the officer 
was watching them, their hearts thumped against their 
ribs. If he decided to stop them, they were lost, for 
there were soldiers here, there and everywhere, and es- 
cape was impossible. When the man finally turned and 
went on his way, they felt a greater relief than when 
they made their exit from the prison. 

The worst of it was that they had all along been 
forced to walk so slowly and sedately. Presently, 
though, they crossed the street and entered a narrow 
lane. There they made up for it, by setting a pace 
which was almost a run. Jaqueline now brought into 
use her knowledge of unfrequented byways, crooked 
alleys and unsuspected passages, and keeping up a 
rapid walk, they very soon came to the narrow street 
which stretched between the garden wall of the Keranec 
Chateau and the outside city wall. They had con- 
cluded, at the suggestion of Father Max, to get into 
the abandoned sewer which led under the city wall, to 
wait there until dark, and to make their way up the 
river by a skiff which Jaqueline kept hidden in the wil- 
lows at the foot of the bluff. 

Father Max, after reconnoitering carefully to see 
that they were not spied upon, pried open the iron man 
hole cover, and taking the girl’s hands, lowered her 
down into the tunnel. He was about to descend him- 
self but was stopped by a thought which came to him 
at that moment. 


SIX SILVER CANDLESTICKS 


241 


“Jaqueline,” he called down to her, “we have for- 
gotten something. We haven’t anything to eat. We 
can’t travel forty or fifty miles without eating. I will 
have to go to Papa Louvac’s bake shop, and procure a 
lot of provisions. Do you mind waiting for me all 
alone down there in the tunnel?” 

“Not a bit. I’m perfectly safe here. I’m a hundred 
times safer here than in the streets. I’m afraid, though, 
that you may be taken. Stirpitz and that guard have 
probably come to their senses by, this time, and every- 
one is on the lookout for a very fine looking young 
priest and a girl dressed up for a soldier.” 

“If they take me, they will earn their money, 
Jaqueline. It isn’t far to the bakery, and I’ll be back 
within the half hour. Good-by, dear, and don’t 
worry.” 

Father Max put the iron man hole cover in place, 
and at once started off, at a very fast pace for Martin 
Louvac’s place. He met with no adventures on the 
way, and arrived at the bake shop in a very few min- 
utes. When he entered the house, he found that the 
shutters of the shop had been put up, and that the shop 
and the kitchen were quite dark. When his eyes be- 
came accustomed to the dim light, he perceived Papa 
Lou vac and Mama Lou vac sitting one at each end of 
the kitchen table. Mama Louvac’s arms were upon the 
table and her head lay upon her arms. Papa Louvac 
supported his chin upon his hand, and gazed dejectedly 
at Mama Louvac. Father Max had entered the house 


16 


242 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


very softly, and they were unaware of his presence. 
Father Max clapped Lou vac upon the shoulder, and the 
baker sprang to his feet. 

“Jaqueline!” he cried. “How is it with Jaqueline?” 

“Jaqueline is alive and in good spirits. The shoot- 
ing party for tomorrow morning has been called off.” 

“Have they pardoned her, or reprieved her?” 

“Not that I know of. They can’t shoot her, be- 
cause they haven’t got her.” 

Father Max then told his delighted hearers the par- 
ticulars of Jaqueline’s rescue. Papa Lou vac caught 
Mama Louvac about the waist and danced about the 
room. 

“I have come for something to eat,” continued 
Father Max. “We must pass through the German 
lines, and reach some point held by the Allies. Jaque- 
line will not be safe until we do. We will have to 
travel forty or fifty miles, and must have quite a stock 
of provisions. I lowered Jaqueline down into that 
old sewer which runs under the city wall near the Ker- 
anec place, and she is waiting for me there. That’s the 
safest place in the city for her.” 

Martin Louvac and his wife jumped as if they were 
electrified, and commenced to hustle about for things 
to eat. In ten minutes they had gotten enough food 
stuff together to last two people for a week. There 
was a cold baked chicken, some slices of boiled ham, a 
lot of sandwiches of many kinds, canned meats, pickles, 
cakes, cheeses, biscuits and fruit. There was also a 


SIX SILVER CANDLESTICKS 


243 


quart bottle of tea and a quart bottle of coffee, already 
creamed and sweetened. Martin Louvac procured a 
stout paper box, or carton, about fifteen inches square, 
packed it closely with the provisions, and fastened it 
with two straps, one this way and one that, so that the 
box would hold together and so that it might be carried 
handily. 

Father Max now grasped Martin Louvac’s hand, 
and kissed Mama Louvac on both cheeks. 

“Until after the war,” said Louvac. 

“I will see you before that, Papa Louvac. The 
Americans, French and English will take Cambrai in 
the fall, if not then, by next spring at the latest. If I 
am alive, I shall be among the first to enter the city. 
Good-by until then.” 

Father Max picked up the box of provisions, and 
passed out into the lane back of the house. In a mo- 
ment, Papa and Mama Louvac ran out after him. 

“Give our love to that dear little Jaqueline,” they 
cried after him. 

And so the good Louvac and his wife pass out of 
the narrative. 

Arriving soon afterward in the street which 
stretched between the Chateau Keranec and the city 
wall, Father Max knelt upon the pavement, and at- 
tempted to pry up the iron man hole cover. It had in 
some way become jammed, it fitted closely to the square 
stone within which it was set, and he had a lot of 
trouble getting his fingers under the edge of it. Fin- 
ally he succeeded in lifting it from its place. 


244 


MADEMOISELLE of cambrai 


“What does your Reverence! expect to find in that 
hole?” 

The voice came from back of him, he sprang up, 
turned about, and found himself facing a big, slouch- 
ing, malevolently grinning fellow, in a corporal’s uni- 
form. Where the man came from was a mystery. 
There was no one in sight when Father Max bent to 
lift the man hole cover. He couldn't have come from 
either corner of the street, the distance was too great. 
Perhaps he had been watching from the top of the 
Keranec garden wall, and had dropped into the street 
to investigate. Father Max was confronted with a 
difficult problem, and he thought quickly. It wouldn't 
do to let the corporal enter the tunnel. It wouldn’t do 
to go down himself and leave him standing there. It 
wouldn’t do even to let him get away. 

“You have caught me fairly,” said he at length, 
“and I may as well tell you the whole story. Before I 
came here, I had a church at Combles. When Combles 
was taken the last time by the German army, my 
church was destroyed by shell fire. Just before it fell 
in ruins, I rushed into it, and managed to save six, 
large, silver candlesticks which stood upon the altar. 
They are two feet high and weigh five pounds apiece. 
When I came to Cambrai, I lodged at a pension. There 
was no place in the house where I could hide them se- 
curely. Just at that time I discovered this old, aban- 
doned sewer. It was the very place I was looking for. 
One day, I smuggled the candlesticks down through 


SIX SILVER CANDLESTICKS 


245 


this man hole, and concealed them in one corner, be- 
hind a big rock. You look like a good fellow, and I will 
split with you. I will give you two of the candlesticks, 
if you will permit me to go my way unmolested with 
the other four/’ 

“That’s a go,” said the corporal, his eyes sparkling 
with avarice. “You go down and hand them up. When 
you are through, we will divide.” 

The man lied. He really meant to take the whole 
six candlesticks and also the paper box which rested 
upon the cobbles. When the priest had handed up the 
last of the six, he meant to clap the man hole cover in 
place, and depart with his booty. He little knew what 
kind of a priest this one was. 

Father Max let himself down into the tunnel, and 
commenced to fuss about, as if searching for the 
treasure. 

“Where are you,” demanded the corporal, who had 
thrust his head down through the hole. “Have you 
found them?” 

“Yes, Eve got them. Lean down further, and 
stretch out your hands, or I can’t reach them to you.” 

The fellow did as requested. Father Max, who had 
got behind him, drew back, and gave him a terrible 
blow on the back of his head with the butt of his auto- 
matic. 

“That’s one of them,” said Father Max. 

The man’s body became like pulp, and came half 
way through the hole. Father Max caught hold of it, 


246 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


and pulled it the rest of the way, and it fell, like a big 
sack of meal to the floor of the sewer. Father Max 
stood upon the inert mass, reached through the hole, 
and secured his box of provisions. Then he got hold of 
the man hole cover and clapped it into place. It now 
seemed strange to him that he had heard and seen 
nothing of Jaqueline. He went a few feet down the 
tunnel, and called to her. There was no answer. 

“Jaqueline, Jaqueline!” he cried, in a loud voice, as 
he proceeded down the incline of the sewer. 

“Here I am, Father Max.” 

The voice was faint and seemed to come from a 
distance. It was not until he had gone almost the en- 
tire length of the tunnel, and turned the last corner, 
that he found her. 

“I was scared,” said she, “and I ran away. I 
should have stayed, and helped you, but a woman nev- 
er thinks of that until afterward. What did you do 
with the man? I hope you didn’t kill him.” 

“Of course not, Jaqueline. I just simply put him to 
sleep. I hope that his slumber will last for several 
hours, and that his dreams will be pleasant.” 

“There,” thought he, “Fve had to lie again. I 
wouldn’t mind it so much, if it were not for this con- 
founded cassock. It’s awkward to lie when one is 
dressed like a priest.” 

“What a tremendously big box you have brought 
along,” exclaimed Jaqueline. “Do you mean to tell me 
that that box is full of things to eat?” 


SIX SILVER CANDLESTICKS 


247 


“Absolutely full, pressed down and running over. 
It was packed by Papa and Mama Louvac. They 
would have made me take a great deal more, but I re- 
fused. They sent you their love, too.” 

“Oh, those good old friends! Probably I shall 
never see them again. It makes me very sad to think 
of them.” 

Her dark eyes were full of tears, as she spoke, and 
her little handkerchief was brought into frequent use. 

They now went to the arched opening of the tunnel, 
and sat side by side upon the edge of its stone bottom, 
with their legs dangling over the bank. They were 
hemmed in and hidden by shrubs and rocks, so that 
they might not be seen from the top of the bluff, or 
from the river. Notwithstanding, however, their se- 
cluded position, by looking through the spaces between 
the rocks and between the bushes, they had an extended 
view of the river, of the pastures and woods beyond 
the river and the sky above the woods, a sky of soft 
velvety blue, flecked here and there by cottony clouds. 
Just then the deep tones of a big bell were wafted to 
them from across the city at their backs. 

“What is that?” questioned Father Max, alertly. 

“That’s the Hotel de Ville bell. I can tell it by its 
peculiar tone. They always ring it when something 
happens out of the ordinary.” 

“They ring it now to announce your escape, Jaque- 
line. Your escape was certainly out of the ordinary. 
I don’t suppose they ever let anyone get away before. 


248 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


Stirpitz and that guard have by this time come back to 
consciousness, and they are having an awful row. Let 
them ring and ring. What is it to us ? This place is 
absolutely safe. In a little while we will eat our sup- 
per. When it grows good and dark, we will take that 
boat, and go up the river. I will paddle the boat with- 
out making a sound. The river is navigable for fifteen 
or twenty miles by small skiffs. When we come to the 
end of it, we will have to get out and walk. That is 
where our real troubles and dangers will commence. 
I have it in mind to try and reach Amiens. Perhaps, 
though, it would be better to strike for Arras. Arras 
must be a good deal nearer than Amiens. We will have 
to be governed entirely by circumstances. We may 
have to change our destination more than once.” 

“Father Max,” said Jaqueline, after she had looked 
at him critically for several seconds, “this is the last 
time I shall call you by that name. After this, your 
name will be ‘Max' and nothing else.” 

“Why should you deprive me so arbitrarily and so 
abruptly of my sacerdotal title?” 

“Because it doesn’t belong to you, because it never 
did belong to you. Now listen and I’ll tell you some- 
thing. Last Thursday, I went to meet my brother, 
who was to bring me another pair of carrier pigeons.” 

“What is your brother’s name? The last time you 
spoke of him, you promised that sometime you would 
tell me, also, you called him ‘cousin’ instead of 
‘brother.’ ” 

“His name is Paul de Keranec.” 


SIX SILVER CANDLESTICKS 


249 


“But you told me that your name was Jaqueline 
Benoit.” 

“So it is. My full name though is Jaqueline Benoit* 
de Keranec.” 

“You are then the daughter of Count Victor de 
Keranec?” 

“Yes.” 

“And being the daughter of Count Victor, you are 
the Countess Jaqueline de Keranec. When you lay in 
bed in that darkened room in the chateau, with the bed 
clothes pulled up to your nose, and made me think that 
you were the old Countess de Keranec, you were not so 
far out of the way. If you were not the old Countess, 
you were the young Countess.” 

“You are altogether wrong. In France the daugh- 
ter of a Count is never a Countess. To become a 
Countess, a girl must marry a man who has that title.” 

“I hope, Jaqueline, that you will never become a 
Countess.” 

“Why so?” 

“Because I don’t want you to marry a Count, of 
course, because I want you to marry me. When I was 
a priest, you forbade me to speak of marriage. Now 
that I am no longer in holy orders, I shall talk about it 
all I please. There is nothing now to prevent me from 
making love to you, and I propose to begin at once.” 

“It will look rather funny for a man in a cassock 
and shovel hat to make love to a girl. I never have had 
it done.” 


250 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Oh, hang the cassock and hat, I shall get rid of 
them the first chance I get.” 

“Besides that, a woman doesn’t feel like being made 
love to when she is dressed as a German officer. You 
must wait until I am clothed in decent feminine ap- 
parel.” 

“I would have too long to wait. It will be days and 
days before you can dress like a girl, and I feel that 
every moment is lost when I am not making love to 
you. You must of course get rid of these distinctive 
garments as soon as possible. The word has gone 
forth to hunt down a young priest and a girl who is 
masquerading as a German lieutenant. As long as we 
wear these garments we are marked, and our capture 
is almost certain. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t have you 
change to a girl again. I could never take a girl, in 
girl’s clothes, through the horrible dangers which stand 
before us. You must continue to be a boy. My idea 
is to buy some common ordinary clothing at the first 
opportunity, a peasant’s frock for me and a farmer 
boy’s jacket and breeches for you. If you only had the 
outfit which you wore when you were the boy, Jean, 
you would be perfect.” 

“I think that you are right, Max dear, but I dislike 
to go so long without my proper skirts. I feel very 
embarrassed now, and I don't want you to look at me 
more than you have to.” 

“You mustn’t ask me not to look at you. You 
mustn’t take away my chief pleasure. If you knew 


SIX SILVER CANDLESTICKS 


251 


how very, very charming you were at this exact mo- 
ment, you wouldn’t think of it.” 

“Now I know that you are laughing at me. You 
must stop talking such nonsense. I was going to tell 
you about my meeting with my brother, Paul, when 
you interrupted me. I was going to tell you why I 
couldn’t call you any longer ‘Father Max.’ My broth- 
er, as perhaps I told you, brings my pigeons in his aero- 
plane, and I go to meet him in that wild waste of terri- 
tory beyond the woods and beyond the fields upon the 
other side of the woods, which they call ‘No Man’s Land.’ 
Last Thursday, I came by appointment and met him 
at the usual place. After we had talked of other things, 
he spoke of an American, named ‘Maxwell Flint,’ who 
was his friend and a fellow member of the Escadrille 
Rochambeau. Maxwell Flint had started from the 
French lines more than two weeks before upon a scout- 
ing trip, and had not come back. Therefore it was sup- 
posed that his machine had come down behind the 
enemy lines, and that Maxwell Flint was either dead or 
a prisoner. 

“ ‘He is neither dead nor a prisoner,’ said I. ‘His 
plane came down near Cambrai, between the river and 
the woods. It was two weeks ago last Tuesday morn- 
ing at five o’clock. I was coming to meet you, Paul, at 
the time, and I saw all that happened. The pilot, who 
was a tall, broad-shouldered, smooth-shaven fellow, af- 
ter working at his engine for a while, leaped down 
from the machine, and went into the woods. I was close 
behind him. Presently, he came to a poor, dilapidated 


252 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAM BRA I 


cottage, the cottage of Jaques Perault. He stood in the 
doorway, and looked into the house. I crept around 
to the hack of the cottage, and gazed through the win- 
dow. What I saw froze the marrow in my bones. 
Jaques Perault and his little daughter had been mur- 
dered, the man lay upon the floor, and the child upon 
the bed. Stranger still, a priest of Cambrai, one Father 
Toussaint, sat in an arm chair, dead, with a blue bullet- 
hole in the middle of his forehead. The airman, after 
gazing at the gruesome scene for several minutes, went 
to work and changed garments with the dead priest. 
Then he took the priest’s body upon his shoulder, car- 
ried it through the woods to the wrecked aeroplane, 
climbed with it to the fuselage, and strapped it into the 
driver’s seat. His motive was obvious ; dressed in the 
priest’s cassock and shovel hat, he was safe from 
capture and internment, while the priest’s body, clothed 
in the leather overalls of the aviator, and strapped in 
the aviator’s plane, stopped all inconvenient investiga- 
tion. 

“When I told my brother these things, and when I 
gave him the number of the wrecked aeroplane, which 
I think was S. 2. 34, he was satisfied that the pilot of 
the machine was Maxwell Flint and no other. 

“When I came back through the woods and joined 
the crowd which was watching the aeroplane with its 
dead pilot, I found the false priest standing near me. 
He spoke to me, and we became acquainted. We have 
been the best of friends ever since. The false priest 
was Father Max, Father Max was Maxwell Flint, and 
Maxwell Flint is you.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 
Navigating the Scheldt 

At half past seven o’clock, Maxwell Flint and 
Jaqueline ate supper. Jaqueline arranged the food and 
the few plates, knives and forks which the Louvacs’ had 
provided, upon a large flat stone just outside of the 
tunnel entrance, and they sat down to a make-believe 
table in a make-believe dining-room. 

“This is very comfortable, Jaqueline,” declared 
Max. “Our trials and hardships will come soon 
enough, so let ns be happy while we can. In the words 
of old Epicurus, 'while we live, let us live.’ Do let me 
help you to some more chicken. Thank you, I’ll take 
my coffee without cream.” 

“You know very well that we haven’t any coffee 
without cream.” 

“Jaqueline, dear, you remind me of Alice and the 
March Hare in Wonderland. The Hare asked Alice to 
have some wine. 'But I don’t see any wine,’ said Alice. 
'There isn’t any wine,’ said the March Hare. When I 
sit here. Jaqueline, dearest, and see your sweet face 
opposite me, I feel that I am in the seventh Heaven. 
If we ever get through to the French lines alive, you 
will have to marry me, just so that I can always look at 

253 


254 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


you across the table. What do you say to that, Jaque- 
line, dearest ?” 

“I am not going to say anything at all until we 
come safely through the dangers which confront us. 
It would be foolish to become engaged to each other, if 
we are going to be killed. No man proposes to a girl 
when they are crossing a river in a leaky boat, and 
when they don't know whether they will ever reach the 
other side. When are we going to start ? It is getting 
dark already.” 

“In a very few minutes. Suppose you put away 
the food and supper things in the box. Meanwhile, I 
will climb down, and see if your boat is in its place.” 

“But I haven’t washed the plates, knives and forks.” 

“You can do that as we paddle up stream in the 
boat.” 

Max climbed down the steep bluff, and after a while 
found Jaqueline’s boat moored in its accustomed place 
under the willows. He was going back after Jaqueline, 
but as he started, he found her at his elbow. She had 
come down the rough face of the cliff, provision box 
and all, with the greatest ease. 

When Max had helped Jaqueline to her seat in the 
stern of the skiff, he took the paddle, and silently and 
swiftly as an American Indian, sent the light craft up 
stream. It was now so dark that the shores of the river 
were but indistinct outlines and shadows. The boat 
itself was but a faint blur upon the landscape, and the 
eye that noted it would have been quick and keen in- 


NAVIGATING THE SCHELDT 


255 


deed. As long as the river and the darkness lasted, 
they were absolutely safe from capture. 

A mile or so above Cambrai, they passed through 
the small village of Noyelles. The town had been al- 
most wiped off the face of the earth by the English 
bombardment of the fall of 1917. A very few of its 
impoverished inhabitants had since returned to their 
ruined dwellings, makeshift shelters had been erected 
here and there, and the weary struggle to keep body 
and soul together had commenced. A few feeble lights 
burned in the windows of a few widely separated huts, 
as our ■ fugitives glided noiselessly up the river and 
through the village. 

When Max and Jaqueline had gone three miles 
further, they came to the village of Marcoing. Just 
beyond the village there were a thousand lights. 

“That's a German encampment," declared Max. 
“There are something like ten thousand German re- 
serves there. I put the encampment clown on my map, 
as I was flying over it two weeks ago. I have the map 
yet." 

“Was that the paper which you ripped out of the 
dead priest's leather coat, after you had broken the 
heads of the two boche sentinels?" 

“The very same, so you saw me then, too?" 

“Yes, and that makes the fourth time. I told you, 
you recollect, that I had seen you four times on that 
memorable day. I saw you once in the early morning, 
when you changed clothing with the priest, once among 


256 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


the crowd which watched the aeroplane, once when you 
cracked the skulls of the two German guards, and re- 
trieved your envelope of maps, and once when you 
rescued me from the beast who was trying to throw 
me over the cliff/’ 

“You must have been close at my heels for the most 
part of the day. You would make a ripping good 
female secret service agent. We must be careful now 
when we pass that encampment. There are no tents or 
lights very near the water, but we had best keep as far 
over on the further side of the river as possible.” 

Max steered the skiff to the right hand of the 
stream, and swept his paddle through the water so 
softly that it raised scarcely a ripple. Very soon the 
lights of the encampment died out one by one, and the 
fugitives breathed more freely. 

The river now became shallower and the current 
swifter, so that now and then, Max, who had taken off 
his shoes and stockings, was forced to get out of the 
boat and wade, pulling the boat along after him by a 
rope which was fast to the bow. When the water be- 
came deeper, and the current ran more slowly, he again 
would take his place in the boat, and renew his paddling. 

“Jaqueline, dear,” said Max, presently, “you are 
tired and sleepy. If I am not mistaken, you yawn 
when you think I am not looking. You must lie down 
in the bottom of the boat, and get some sleep.” 

Max spread his long cassock on the bottom of the 
skiff, between the thwarts, rolled his large felt shovel 


NAVIGATING THE SCHELDT 


257 


hat in his vest for a pillow, and made Jaqueline lie 
down. She protested that she was not a bit sleepy, 
and that she couldn’t sleep anyway while he was toiling 
at the paddle, or wading in front of the boat, but he 
took her in his arms, and laid her down by sheer force. 
Very soon her breathing grew deeper and more regu- 
lar, and he knew that the dear creature was asleep. 

After they had passed through the village of Ribe- 
court, there was a bend in the river, which now flowed 
directly from the west. With the first gray light of the 
morning, they came to a large forest, almost two miles 
across, which stood upon the left, or south bank of the 
stream. Max was at that moment wading and towing 
the boat. He stopped to rest, and turned about to look 
at Jaqueline. She was sitting upon the middle thwart, 
she had pulled off her boots, removed her stockings, 
and was rolling up her trousers. Max gazed for a 
moment at her small white feet with their pink toes, 
and commenced to laugh. 

“What are you laughing at?” she demanded. 

“I just had the silliest kind of an idea, and it made 
me laugh.” 

“What was it? Tell me at once.” 

“If you must know, I was thinking of the five little 
pigs that went to market.” 

“Max, you are a goose. Your education is very 
incomplete. Only four little pigs went to market. One 
little pig stayed at home.” 

“You are right. I knew all about the pigs once, 

17 


258 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


but I had forgotten. But Jaqueline, what do you pro- 
pose to do? Why are you making these portentious 
preparations ?” 

“I am going to get out into the water and tow the 
boat. You have been working for hours and hours, and 
I know that you are awfully tired. You are going to 
lie down, and I am going to take your place.” 

“Jaqueline, you will do nothing of the kind. You 
are not fitted for this kind of work, and I can do it 
much better than you. I am far from being tired. You 
have a very poor opinion of my strength and power of 
endurance. As Paul Jones says, I haven’t commenced 
to work yet. The river bottom is very treacherous, too. 
At any moment, I am likely to step off a sand bank, 
and go into the water over my head. So put on your 
stockings and boots and go to sleep again.” 

Jaqueline was inclined to be rebellious, but presently 
Max actually did step off into deep water, so that he 
had to swim for it and to clamber into the skiff. She 
now thought better of it, and commenced to draw on 
her stockings. She wouldn’t pull on her boots, though. 
She drew the line at the long, heavy boots. Neither 
would she lie down/ again. Instead, she took her old 
place upon the stern thwart, facing Max. 

“What a long piece of woods !” she exclaimed. “It 
seems as if we would never get to the end of it. How 
dark, gloomy and mysterious it looks.” 

“That is the wood of Avrincourt,” declared Max. 
“It is down on my map, and is about ten miles south- 


NAVIGATING THE SCHELDT 


259 


west of Cambrai. That map of mine is going to be our 
most valuable asset. I little thought when I was up 
among the clouds sketching it out that it would ever 
guide me in my earthly wanderings. We have come 
as far as we can tonight. It will soon be broad day- 
light, and we can’t risk going further. Anyway, ten 
miles for the first eight hours is considerable of an ac- 
complishment. We must lie hidden during the day 
time, and travel only at night. If we could make ten 
miles every night, we would reach the Allied lines and 
safety before the end of the week. Of course, though, 
that is impossible. There will be some nights when we 
can’t stir an inch.” 

Max brought the boat to the south bank of the river, 
and paddling along close to the shore, sought for a 
place where they might lie hidden during the coming 
day. Presently, he found a nook, a sort of indentation 
of the bank, shut off from the river by a log, upon 
which had piled a lot of driftwood and brush. This 
tiny inlet was roofed with the branches and foliage of 
the forest, and had a narrow entrance, scarce wider 
than their boat. When Max had brought the skiff in- 
side of this natural shelter, they found that they had 
come into a seclusion complete and impenetrable. The 
first hundred feet of the woods next the river was 
swamp, in which the water stood three or four feet 
deep. They were, therefore, as safe from attack on the 
land side, as they were on the river side. 

Max now opened the box of provisions, and Jaque- 


260 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


line arranged their breakfast upon one of the thwarts of 
the boat. The freshness, the coolness and the bright- 
ness of a summer morning made their breakfast a 
most delightful one. The green of the leafy roof 
above them, the blue of the sky between the leaves, the 
mysterious deep vistas of the forest formed the tapes- 
tries of their breakfast room, the fresh smell of the 
woods was in their nostrils, the early song of the birds 
was in their ears. They had also a good appetite which 
was the only other thing necessary to complete their 
enjoyment. 

After breakfast was over, and the breakfast things 
and the food had been put away, Max thrust his long 
legs under one of the thwarts and lay upon his back 
in the bottom of the boat. He meant to lie awake for a 
while, and think things over, but he was sound asleep 
in less than two minutes. The last thing he saw was 
Jaqueline’s sweet, oval face, as it was also the first 
thing he beheld when he awakened. He kept his eyes 
just a little way open for quite a few minutes, that he 
might gaze, unobserved, at her loveliness. She was 
looking at him, too. She never took her eyes away. 
She was looking at him very amiably and tenderly also. 

“She looks as if she cared,” thought Max, “I only 
hope that she feels toward me the way she looks.” 

After a while, he sat up and looked at his watch. 

“My watch must be wrong,” he exclaimed. “It 
says three o’clock. It can’t be three o’clock in the 
afternoon.” 


NAVIGATING THE SCHELDT 


261 


“Three o’clock in the afternoon is right,” said 
Jaqueline, looking at her wrist watch. 

“Then I must have slept between eight and nine 
hours. I am ashamed of myself. Have you been 
awake all the time, Jaqueline, dear?” 

“I may have taken forty winks now and then. I 
was glad to have you sleep so long. You really needed 
it. I had plenty of sleep last night. I liked to think 
that I was doing something by watching while you 
slept.” 

“Jaqueline, you are a splendid girl, you are a faith- 
ful little comrade. After an hour we must eat again, 
and that will probably be the last time today. Then we 
must set about getting something to wear in place of 
these conspicuous garments, these uniforms of the 
army and the church. When we were out in the middle 
of the river, before I pushed the boat into this hiding 
place, I caught a glimpse of a farm house, in the fields 
beyond the woods, a small stone cottage with a thatched 
roof, I will go up there and investigate. If everything 
is right, I will come for you.” 

After they had eaten again, it being then a few 
minutes after four o'clock, Max got the boat out into 
the stream, and paddled it to the end of the woods, 
stopping at the bank, at a point where it would still be 
concealed by the trees from the sight of anyone who 
came along the road, a road which stretched through 
the pastures in front of the farm house. 

“Now, Jaqueline,” said he, “you must wait in the 


262 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


boat while I go to the cottage. If everything is satis- 
factory, I will wave my hand to you, and you will 
come at once and join me. Don’t come unless I signal 
you.” 

“You must take care of yourself,” admonished 
Jaqueline, anxiously. “Don’t run any risks, Max, 
mon ami.” 

Max got to the house without seeing anyone in the 
fields or upon the road. When he knocked at the open 
door, an old woman who had been bustling about the 
house, came to the doorway. She was an old lady of 
seventy or so, bent and wrinkled, with white hair and 
a pleasant face. When she saw the good-looking young 
priest, she made a low curtsey. 

“Good afternoon, Father,” said she. 

“Madam,” answered Max, “I am no more a father 
of the church than you are. I am an American, and, 
until lately, I was a Lieutenant in the French flying 
corps.” 

“Come right into the house,” said the old woman, 
hospitably. “It is enough, Monsieur, that you are an 
American, and more than enough that you have fought 
with the soldiers of France. My name is Desmoulins, 
they call me Grandma Desmoulins. Everything in my 
house is yours.” 

Maxwell Flint followed his hostess into the kitchen 
of the two-roomed cottage, and took the chair which 
she placed for him. He looked about him, and saw 
everywhere signs of the most abject poverty. She had 


NAVIGATING THE SCHELDT 


263 


so little to give, and yet she had offered him that little. 
He was touched to the heart, and began to like her 
tremendously. 

“I will tell you my story, Grandma, in a very few 
words/' he commenced. “I have a girl in a boat upon 
the river, down there beyond the wood. She is a 
French girl from Cambrai, and has furnished valuable 
information to the French forces more than once. Two 
days ago, she was arrested, tried for being a spy, and 
sentenced to be shot. I got her out of prison by dress- 
ing her up as a German lieutenant, and I brought her 
up the river last night. She can go no further, unless 
she gets a change of clothing. Word has gone out to 
every German official within fifty miles of Cambrai, 
and everyone is on the lookout for a girl, disguised as a 
German officer. She can’t travel as a girl either, we 
mean to make for the French lines, and no girl could 
come through unharmed. I must procure for her some- 
how the ordinary outfit of a farmer boy. Perhaps you 
can help me.” 

“Monsieur, I have the very thing. Le bon Dieu en 
soit loue. My grandson, Andre, went away with his 
father to fight for the French in 1914. He had a 
spick and span blue and red uniform, and he left his 
old duds at home. He was sixteen that year, but small 
for his age. If your mademoiselle is not a very tall 
girl, they will fit her as if they were made for her. 
There’s a jacket, a pair of breeches, some long gray 
woolen stockings, a pair of heavy shoes and a big 
cap.” 


264 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Splendid, Grandmother Desmoulins. I wouldn’t 
wish for anything better. ‘Twas a lucky chance that 
brought me to your house. I will go and bring Made- 
moiselle Jaqueline at once, and have her change into a 
farmer boy.” 

“That is right, Monsieur, bring the little one here 
quickly. Meanwhile, I will get Andre’s things from 
my chest.” 

While the old woman was in the bedroom, turning 
the contents of her chest upside down to get at the de- 
sired articles of clothing, Max went outside of the 
house, and signaled Jaqueline by waving his arm. In 
a moment she came from behind the trees, and ran 
across the pasture toward the cottage. As she entered 
the house with Max, Grandma Desmoulins was com- 
ing from the bedroom with Andre’s clothing in her 
arms. As she caught sight of Jaqueline, she dropped 
her burden upon the floor, and threw up her hands. 

“Mon Dieu!” cried she, “this is not a girl, this is 
indeed an officer of the Prussians. Monsieur, you have 
tricked me. Is it not true?” 

Jaqueline, laughing, removed her kepi, and gave 
her hair a tug, so that the whole luxurious mass of it 
came down upon her shoulders. 

“Ah, now I see that you spoke the truth, Mon- 
sieur,” declared the old woman. “It is really a girl, 
it is the French girl of whom you told me, and she is 
also a very handsome girl. She is beautiful like my 
little Georgette. Georgette was my granddaughter, 


NAVIGATING THE SCHELDT 


265 


the sister of Andre, but two years younger. I will tell 
you about her when we have time. Now, ma petite, 
come into the bedroom with me, and I will dress you 
up in the clothes of my grandson, Andre.” 

Jaqueline went into the bedroom with Grandma 
Desmoulins, and remained there with the door closed, 
for ten minutes. When she came out, she looked like a 
dream of a farmer boy. 

“That won’t do,” declared Max. “Farmer boys 
don’t have skin like that. You must rub your hands in 
mud, and get your face and neck good and grimy. 
What are you going to do with your hair?” 

“I suppose I’ll have to cut it off,” replied Jaqueline, 
mournfully. 

“That would be a crime. Let us wait for that until 
the last moment. I would as leave cut my hand off as 
cut that beautiful hair off.” 

“Wait,” asked Grandma Desmoulins, “and I will 
bring you a hat or cap which will cover your hair, so 
that no tiny least bit will show.” 

She went again to the big wooden chest, in the bed- 
room, and presently returned with a large Garibaldi 
cap and a dilapidated black felt hat, with a hole in the 
crown. 

“These belonged to my son, Antoine,” said she, 
with pride. “He had the biggest head in all the coun- 
try round. This cap will make you look like a boy, you 
may be sure, ma petite.” 

Jaqueline wound her hair into a knot upon the top of 


266 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


her head, and put on the cap, pulling it down to her 
ears and to the nape of her neck, so that not more than 
a quarter inch of hair was visible below it. 

“There,” exclaimed Max, “smudge your face a 
little, and no one can tell that you are not a boy. You 
are rather too good looking for a boy, of course, but 
we can’t help that. This old felt hat seems to be about 
the right thing for me. I think that I’ll borrow it, and 
leave the priest’s chapeau here. I’ll also leave my 
cassock and buttonless vest, and go in my shirt sleeves. 
The days are warm and I won’t miss them.” 

“Ah, but Monsieur, the nights are cold, and Mon- 
sieur will s’enrhumer. Wait, I have a warm knit 
jacket, which belonged to my son Antoine, and I will 
bring it.” 

Again Grandma Desmoulins rummaged in the old 
chest, this time bringing forth a large brown knit coat 
or sweater. Max put it on, and surveyed himself and 
Jaqueline with satisfaction. 

“Now, Jaqueline,” said he, “we are ready to face 
the bodies, or the devil himself, meaning, of course, the 
Kaiser.” 

Max emptied the pockets of his cast-off garments, 
and gave Grandma Desmoulins three gold twenty franc 
pieces. 

“But I can’t take them,” she protested. “What 
would le Bon Dieu say if he knew that I took money 
from French people in distress.” 

“You must take them,” he insisted, “we have 


NAVIGATING THE SCHELDT 


267 


money in plenty. The trouble is that we cannot spend 
it. If you do not take our money, we cannot take your 
clothing. Now Grandmother Desmoulins, tell us 
about yourself, and about your son, your grandson, 
Andre, and your granddaughter, Georgette.” 

“It will take but a few words Monsieur and dear 
little Mademoiselle. Before the war we lived here to- 
gether in peace and happiness, myself, my son, An- 
toine, and his wife and my two grandchildren, Andre 
and Georgette. In the first year of the war, my son 
and grandson went away with the French army to fight. 
I had a letter from them once, a year afterward, but 
have not heard from them since. They are without 
doubt dead, or they would have written me again.” 

The old woman paused to wipe away a tear, and 
then continued. 

“Two years ago, the little mother, who was always 
of health the most delicate, died of grief, and Georgette 
and I were left alone. We raised a few vegetables, we 
had a goat and some chickens, so that we made out to 
live, and we comforted each other as best we could. 
Georgette was indeed a pretty girl, and she was a good 
and modest girl. Mademoiselle, when I look at you, I 
think of my little Georgette. She had your eyes, and 
her face was beautiful like yours. Last March, there 
came down the road there a troop of German soldiers, 
and there were three officers riding in an automobile. 
When the officers saw Georgette, who was working in 
the garden, they stopped the car and sent two soldiers 


268 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


to bring her to them. When she came to the car, they 
pulled her into it. I ran to help her, but other soldiers 
held me back. Georgette struggled, but they held her 
down upon the back seat, and drove away. I saw her 
face once as she looked back at me. There was blood 
upon it, and she screamed, oh, she screamed so that I 
shall never forget it. Now I am alone. I work in 
the fields and in my garden, and I have something to 
eat, but I have nothing to live for, and I am ready to 
die. I pray every night though, to le bon Dieu that 
when I die, it will be while I am doing something for 
my beloved France.” 

Tears coursed down Grandma Desmoulin’s fur- 
rowed cheeks. Jaqueline put an arm about her neck, 
and the two wept together. 


CHAPTER XIX 
Granny Desmoulins 

Grandmother Desmoulins now arose, went to the 
door and looked up the road toward the east. She had 
done this before several times, so that Max had taken 
notice of it. 

“They are coming,” she exclaimed. “The Germans 
are coming. I was afraid of it. You must hide until 
they have passed.” 

Max and Jaqueline ran to the doorway, and stand- 
ing back of the old woman, looked over her shoulders. 
A troop of about twenty men, led by a mounted officer, 
was coming down the road, not a thousand feet away. 

“We won’t have time to get to the river and our 
boat,” declared Jaqueline. “They will see us if we 
attempt to leave the house. What shall we do?” 

“I have a hiding place, where you will be perfectly 
safe,” announced Grandma Desmoulins. “I have no 
cellar, but there is a pit under the kitchen floor, which 
they will never discover. My son made it, before he 
went away, for just such a time as this.” 

She moved the kitchen table away from the center 
of the floor, took up an old rag rug, and showed them 
a trap door, about two by two and a half feet in size. 

269 


270 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


It was hung upon hinges, and had a ring to lift it by. 
She pulled it up, thereby disclosing a dark pit, into 
which a narrow ladder descended. 

“You will find some empty wooden boxes down 
there to sit upon,” said the old woman. “Now get 
down quickly, as they will be here in a minute. I 
can hear their voices now. I will have to put the rug 
and the table back in place, and I will have to hide 
that uniform and that hat and cassock in the bottom of 
the chest. I will have hardly time enough.” 

Max lifted Jaqueline down into the hole, and 
jumped down himself. He found two wooden boxes, 
put them over into a corner, and pulled Jaqueline down 
beside him, keeping his arm about her waist. Grandma 
Desmoulins shut the trap, leaving them in the blackest 
kind of darkness, and afterward they could hear her 
moving the rug and table into place, and running into 
the bedroom to hide their cast-off clothing in the old 
chest. 

“This is a strange hiding place, Jaqueline, dear,” 
said Max. “Are you afraid ?” 

“Just a little, Max. It is comfortable though to 
feel you so close beside me. It would be terrible if I 
were here alone. I would be frightened to death. If 
you held me a little closer, I wouldn't mind it.” 

There came a sound of clattering hoofs and tramp- 
ing feet, which ceased as the troop drew up in front of 
the door. The lieutenant in command of the patrol, 
with his sergeant, corporal and two men, came into the 


GRANNY DESMOULINS 


271 


house. The lieutenant was a stiff, pompous, cocksure 
fellow, with spectacles and a twisted blond moustache. 

“Come here, old woman,” he commanded Grandma 
Desmoulins, “I want a word with you.” 

Max and Jaqueline, though they saw nothing, 
could hear every word that was spoken. They could 
also tell what was taking place on the floor above them 
by the sound of footsteps, and by other noises. 

“We are in search of two spies,” went on the lieu- 
tenant, “a French priest and a French girl of twenty. 
The priest is dressed like a priest, but the girl, who is 
a tall, well set up wench, is masquerading in the uni- 
form of a German officer. They are believed to have 
come this way. Have you seen them, if so, when, how 
and where?” 

“It is just as I thought, Jaqueline, dear,” whispered 
Max. “They are after us, they are hunting for us 
from Dan to Beersheeba. Old Stollberg will move 
Heaven and earth to get you back.” 

“There is always one way out of it,” murmured 
Jaqueline. “I would rather die than be taken by him 
again.” 

“I have seen no such people,” said Grandma Des- 
moulins to the lieutenant. “No one at all has been 
here yesterday or today.” 

“You would lie about it, anyway,” declared the 
lieutenant. “Ebeling,” he ordered the sergeant, “search 
the house. Look into every closet, every cupboard. 
Look into and under the bed. Go up into the loft under 


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MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


the roof, and stick your bayonet into every hole. There 
doesn’t seem to be any cellar.” 

For a while there was a sound of tramping, of the 
overturning of furniture, of the opening and shutting 
of closet and cupboard doors. 

“See here, what I have found, Herr Leitnant,” pres- 
ently called Sergeant Ebeling from the bedroom. 

His companions flocked into the room. The Ser- 
geant had pulled the priest’s cassock and Jaqueline’s 
showy uniform from the bottom of the big chest, and 
had flung them upon the bed. 

“That’s it, Ebeling,” cried the lieutenant, “you have 
found the goods, and now we’ll get the spies who wore 
them. That’s Stirpitz’s uniform, I know it well. Now, 
old woman, what have you to say? Where are those 
d — d spies, the priest and the girl? When were they 
here, and what did they change into?” 

“I know nothing about them,” calmly and stub- 
bornly declared Grandma Desmoulins. 

“Ebeling,” ordered the lieutenant, “give the old hag 
an inch or two of the point of your bayonet. Perhaps 
then she will find her voice.” 

Ebeling prodded Grandma Desmoulins in the stom- 
ach with his bayonet. She screamed and sank to the 
floor. Max and Jaqueline heard the lieutenant’s order, 
heard the old woman’s scream and the sound of her 
fall. Jaqueline started up. 

“We must go to her aid,” said she. “I can’t stand 
it to have them torture the poor old thing.” 


GRANNY DESMOULINS 273 

Max took Jaqueline in his arms, and drew her 
down. 

“We can do nothing at all,” he declared. “If we 
are discovered, they will kill her anyway, for harboring 
us, they will kill me, and will take you back to that old 
beast, Stollberg.” 

She fell upon his shoulder, and sobbed convulsively. 

“We are wasting our time here,” declared the lieu- 
tenant. “I never knew one of these old French she 
pigs to say anything, no matter what we did to her. 
The priest and the girl have been here, but they are not 
here now, that is certain. They have undoubtedly gone 
west, and we can get them, if we are quick about it. 
Corporal, get your men into line, and march. Ebeling, 
you stay here, and finish that lying old hag. When 
you have fixed her, set the house on fire, and follow 
us.” 

The men, excepting Ebeling, left the house, the 
order to march was given, and the patrol moved away 
down the road, toward the west. Ebeling went into 
the bedroom, and fixed Grandma Desmoulins with sev- 
eral bayonet thrusts. She screamed once again and 
was silent. He now piled the bedroom furniture upon 
the bed, and set fire to it, after which, he brought the 
kitchen table, and added it to the heap. He was going 
for the kitchen chairs, when his foot caught in the rug, 
and he stumbled, kicking the rug to one side, and lay- 
ing bare the trap door. With a bestial cry of joy, he 
flung himself upon it, and wrenched it open. His eyes 

18 


274 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


were blinded with the light of day and with the blaze 
of the fire, and he peered ineffectually into the dark pit. 
He let himself down further, and thrust his head and 
shoulders into the hole. Max caught him by the scruff 
of the neck and pulled him down into the pit. 

“Jaqueline,” ordered Max, “go up into the kitchen, 
and wait for me. I want all the room there is.” 

She climbed the ladder, obediently, and kneeling 
upon the edge of the trap, watched the combat with fear 
and trembling. 

Max had a peculiar throat strangle hold, which he 
had used with a number of bodies, since he had joined 
the French army, and which had always proved effec- 
tual. It was effectual now. In a few minutes, his head 
appeared above the level of the floor, he put his hands 
upon the edge of the trap, and hauled himself up. He 
ran to the window and looked after the retreating Ger- 
mans. 

“They are a thousand feet away,” he announced. 
“They are coming to a rise in the road. When they 
are the other side of the hill, we will get out of here. 
I dare not risk it until then.” 

It was all of a minute before the last soldier dis- 
appeared beyond the rise in the highway, but that min- 
ute seemed an eternity. The bedroom was a mass of 
flames, and the kitchen was a furnace. Max took 
Jaqueline’s hand, and they stole out of the door and 
around the house, until they had put the house between 
them and the marching enemy. 


GRANNY DESMOULINS 


275 


“I have forgotten something,” said Max, “wait for 
me here, Jaqueline. I will be back in half a minute.” 

He retraced his steps to the door of the burning 
building, entered the kitchen, shut down the trap in the 
floor, and pulled a heavy chest of drawers upon it. 
During the operation he held his breath. 

“I had to do it, and I didn’t want Jaqueline to see 
me,” he soliloquized, after he had rushed into the open, 
and had taken a long breath of cool air into his lungs. 
“If that fellow escaped, he would have the troop back 
after us in less than fifteen minutes.” 

“What did you go back for?” asked Jaqueline, 
when he had rejoined her. 

“I went back to complete some unfinished business.” 

Jaqueline regarded him with a look of suspicion, 
but did not press him further. There was a thick-set 
hedge which ran from the garden down through the 
fields to the river. When they had gained its shelter, 
they hastened along beside it, stooping low, so that they 
might not be seen, if any members of the German 
troop should happen to turn back. When they came to 
the river and the edge of the wood, they found their 
boat without any trouble. They tumbled into it, and 
Max paddled back to the hidden and sheltered cove 
which they had occupied during the fore part of the 
day. 

“We must lie here until night,” Max declared, “we 
are as safe here as if we were in Paris. When dark- 
ness comes, we’ll take to the middle of the stream, and 


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MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


go west as long as the water holds out. Our chief dan- 
ger is over, we have got rid of those incriminating cos- 
tumes. From now on, we are just ordinary farmers, 
looking for work.” 

“Yes, Max,” said Jaqueline, sorrowfully, “we have 
changed our appearance, but that change has cost poor 
old Grandma Desmoulins her life. When she harbored 
us, and gave us these garments, she knew that the pen- 
alty was death, yet she did it cheerfully. I shall always 
weep when I think of her.” 

Max took his handkerchief and dried Jaqueline’s 
tears. 

“Anyway,” he comforted, “dear old Grandma had 
her wish. She died while doing something for her be- 
loved France.” 

Max took out his map, which he had still preserved, 
and laid it open on one of the thwarts ; he indicated with 
a pencil a certain point upon it. 

“Here we are at Avrincourt wood,” said he. “If 
we follow the river six or seven miles further, we come 
to another forest, called ‘the Velu wood.’ There the 
river ends, and there our tramp commences. My idea 
is to strike for Arras. That is the nearest point of the 
Allied lines, and the point most easily reached. When 
we leave Velu, we will travel toward the northeast. 
We will pass through Vaulx and Croisilles. See, here 
they are upon the map. I don’t mean that we will ac- 
tually pass through those towns. We will have to avoid 
all settled places, and keep to the hills and the woods. 


GRANNY DESMOULINS 


277 


We are now about twenty-five miles from Arras. Croi- 
silles is only nine miles from Arras. There is one 
thing that worries me, and that is our lack of identifi- 
cation cards. If we are stopped, and have no cards to 
show, it will go badly with us.” 

“I left mine in the pocket of my gown at the con- 
ciergerie.” 

“And I tore mine up and threw it into the river. 
We would have short shrift, if those cards were found 
upon us. Perhaps some good-natured French farmer 
will give us cards. Fll try the first one we meet.” 

When it was dark, and they had partaken of a light 
repast, Max got the skiff out into the river, and their 
journey again commenced. The water above Avrin- 
cotirt wood was deeper and the current slower, so that 
they made better progress than upon the night before. 
Only once did Max find it necessary to get into the 
water and tow the boat. Toward midnight, when they 
had reached Velu wood, they found that they had come 
to the end of their journey by water. At this point the 
river was split up into several insignificant streams or 
creeks, neither one of which was navigable for even the 
smallest skiff. After they had stepped ashore, Max 
found a big stone, and raising it aloft, dashed it through 
the bottom of the boat, sinking it in three feet of water. 

“If they found it here,” said he, “they would know 
we came this way.” 

Max now picked up the food box, and they set off 
through the fields and over the hills toward Vaulx, 


278 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


keeping as far away from the roads as possible. Thou- 
sands of lights were passing along the main highway, 
as if great forces of men and long troop trains were 
moving. Sometimes patrols of soldiers came across the 
fields, and it was necessary to hide until they had passed. 
Fortunately they came safely through this danger. 
When it was morning, and they were still a mile or so 
to the east of the town of Vaulx, they came to the ruins 
of a burned building, or a cluster of buildings, which 
stood at the end of a private drive, half a mile from 
the highway. These piles of disjointed masonry and 
blackened timbers were surrounded by a grove of trees 
and by devastated gardens and trampled fields. 

“There is our hiding place for the day,” announced 
Max, “we will clear out some nook in behind the half 
fallen walls of that main building, and get a shelter 
from the sun and a place to eat and rest in.” 

He helped Jaqueline up the pile of bricks and mortar 
which had fallen against the walls outside, and they en- 
tered the ruins through a dismantled window opening. 
After picking their way with much difficulty over frag- 
ments of stone and under the blackened timbers which 
still remained in place, they came to a corner which 
seemed to meet their views to a nicety. The floor here 
was still standing, and there was a window opening 
looking toward the drive on the north, and another 
looking across the fields toward the west. There was a 
long square block of stone lying across the corner of the 
walls, and several smaller blocks were scattered about 


GRANNY DESMOULINS 


279 


the floor. Max pulled one of these smaller fragments, 
a piece with squared ends, over to the long block, and 
set it upon end. 

“That is our table,” said he, “this long section of 
broken column will be our seat, it will also answer for 
a tete-a-tete, or a couch, if you want to lie down. I am 
going out into the grounds to get some further addi- 
tions to our menage. Our tea is gone. I will take the 
bottle with me and try and find some drinking water.” 

Max stumbled his way out of the ruins, and was gone 
all of ten minutes. When he returned, he brought a 
bottle of drinking water, the stub of a broom and a 
huge ann full of green leaves and branches. 

“I found a spring underneath that little hill, at the 
end of the garden,” said he, “the water is cool and 
sweet. I also found this old broom lying upon the floor 
of an outbuilding. Nothing now is lacking for our 
menage. We will commence by cleaning house.” 

He had Jaqueline go off a little way, while he swept 
the floor and his rude stone furniture free from broken 
bricks and mortar. Then he covered the stone bench 
with a soft layer of leafy branches, and announced that 
the house was ready for occupancy. After Jaqueline 
had opened up that magical box, which seemed never 
likely to grow empty, and which constantly surprised 
them with some new evidence of the foresight and cul- 
inary skill of Papa and Mama Louvac, she set the table 
deftly, and they sat down, side by side, to breakfast. 

“Jaqueline,” said Max, “try some of this pate de 


280 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


foie gras. It is very good.” 

‘Thank you, no. I prefer this deviled crab.” 

“I think, Jaqueline, that you and I would do very 
well at housekeeping.” 

“Where would we keep house?” 

“We might have a modest mansion in the Faubourg 
St. Germain in Paris, or on Park Lane in London. 
They say that it is also very pleasant on Riverside 
Drive in New York.” 

“If we kept house, we would have to be married.” 

“Naturally. You intend to marry me, do you not, 
Jaqueline?” 

“That is a funny question to ask of a farmer boy.” 

When they had eaten, and Jaqueline had cleared off 
the table, Max rearranged his branches of pine and bal- 
sam upon the long, square block upon which they had 
been sitting, and rolling up his knit jacket, placed it at 
one end of the block for a pillow. 

“Now, Jaqueline,” said he, “stretch yourself upon 
your couch and get some sleep. We will have a long 
tramp tonight, and you will need it. Your bed isn’t 
very soft and downy, but you must make it do.” 

Jaqueline obediently laid herself down, Max sat upon 
the floor, with his back against her stone couch, with 
his knees drawn to his chin, his arms upon his knees 
and his head upon his arms. And so they slept. 


CHAPTER XX 
Ghosts of Children 

Max was awakened by Jaqueline calling to him in a 
whisper. 

“Max, Max,” said she. “Are you awake?” 

“What is it ?” he asked, instantly aroused. 

“Max, there’s someone besides ourselves in these 
ruins. I was awakened by noises. I heard the patter- 
ing of feet, they sounded like bare feet. Then there 
was a kind of a shrill chatter, which seemed to be an- 
swered. I thought that I caught sight of something, 
too. It went past the door opening in that middle wall. 
It vanished so quickly that I couldn’t tell what it was 
like.” 

“Don’t be alarmed, Jaqueline. Stay where you are, 
and I will investigate.” 

Max arose, and picking his way over piles of brick 
and stone, squeezing past barriers of blackened timbers, 
and crawling through half-filled doorways, made a 
complete round of the ruined building. 

“I haven’t found or heard a thing,” declared he, 
upon his return. “Jaqueline, you were dreaming. It 
often happens that way. While you are dreaming your 
last dream, you awake, and imagine that your dream 
was an actuality.” 


281 


282 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“But I really heard that pattering of feet, and those 
queer voices/' declared she, doggedly. 

“We had a longer sleep than I thought,” said Max, 
looking at his watch. “We must have dozed off at ten 
o’clock, and it is now past three in the afternoon. I 
must look and see what is doing outside.” 

He went to the window opening, which looked 
north toward the main highway, and gazed for a long 
time. 

“What do you see that is so interesting?” asked 
Jaqueline. 

“Troops,” answered he. “Great bodies of troops 
moving westward, masses of troops and then more 
troops, guns, hundreds of guns and then some. Equip- 
ment and commissariat trains without end.” 

Jaqueline took her place beside him, and gazed with 
him at the endless procession upon the highway. 

“Where are they all going. Max?” 

“I don’t know. I only know where they think they 
are going. They think that they are going to Amiens 
and to Calais, but Haig and Byng and Mangin will have 
something to say about that. If we stood here long 
enough, we would see them all coming back again.” 

He now went to the other window opening, and 
looked out toward the west, over the pastures and fields 
of grain. A quarter mile away, at the top of a small 
hill, stood a homely, brown, weather-beaten cottage, and 
in the fields near the cottage, an old man was working 
with a hoe. 


GHOSTS OF CHILDREN 


283 


“Jaqueline, T am going to interview that old farm- 
er, announced Max, “I am going to beg, borrow or 
buy some identification cards. Perhaps some member 
of his family is dead, and there is a card left over. I 
can get to him very easily through that gulley which 
runs up the hillside, but I don’t want to risk taking you 
with me. Will you mind staying here alone?” 

“No,” she answered rather uncertainly, at the same 
time casting an apprehensive look around the pile of 
ruins. “Come back as quickly as you can, Max, I shall 
be watching you all the time from this window.” 

“And see that you don’t have any more dreams, 
Jaqueline.” 

Saying this, Max let himself out of the window 
opening, plunged down the pile of debris outside of the 
walls, crossed the ruined garden and the pasture next 
the garden, and entered the gulley or ravine which led 
up the hillside to the hut of the old farmer. When he 
came upon the old man, he found him leaning upon the 
handle of his hoe and resting. The most noticeable 
thing about him was his extreme age. His brown skin 
was completely covered with a fine net-work of wrinkles. 
He had undoubtedly passed the four-score mark, yet 
he appeared to be strong and hardy. 

“Good day, Father,” greeted Max. 

“Good day, Monsieur,” responded the octogenarian, 
in a friendly way. “What can I do for you?” 

' “I will tell you my story in a few words,” announced 
Max, without preamble. “My name is Maxwell Flint, 


284 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


I am an American, and a member of the French flying 
corps. I have a French boy of sixteen with me. He is 
at present hiding in yonder ruined building. Day be- 
fore yesterday, we escaped from the Germans at 
Cambrai. They charged us with being French spies.” 

“Wait a moment,” interrupted the old man. “How 
much truth was there in this accusation?” 

“I am afraid there was a good deal.” 

“So much the better. Pray go on.” 

“We are aiming for Arras, which is the nearest 
point on the French English lines. We will have hot 
work getting across the actual battlefront and the No 
Man’s Land which lies between the two armies, but there 
is a worse danger, the danger of being stopped by the 
Germans and asked to give an account of ourselves. 
We have no identification or registration cards, and our 
arrest would result in our being taken back to Cambrai, 
where we would have to stand before a firing squad. 
Can you not obtain cards for us? Perhaps you have 
something of the kind lying about the house. Most 
anything would fit the situation.” 

“Let me see,” pondered old skull and cross bones. 
“I had a lad living with me last year. His name was 
Duprez, and he was seventeen years old. When the 
English overran this part of the country last November, 
he availed himself of the chance, and went away with 
them to join the French colors. As he had no further 
use for the card, he left it with me. I think it is in the 
house now, I will go and see.” 


GHOSTS OF CHILDREN 


285 


The old man dropped his hoe, and went to the 
house. In five minutes he returned, with a card in his 
hand, and gave it to Max. Max read, the card aloud. 

“Felix Duprez, age seventeen years, height five feet 
six inches, hair brown, eyes brown, nose aquiline. Oc- 
cupation, farmer, born at Queant, Pas de Calais, pres- 
ent residence, Lagnicourt, pres de Vaulx.” 

“That will do very well,” commented Max. “My 
boy is not quite so tall, but the difference may not be 
noted. There remains only a card for myself.” 

“Why not use mine? You are welcome to it, or to 
anything else that I have. I don’t have a chance every 
day to help the cause of France.” 

“I couldn’t use it, it would be worse than none at 
all. You are over eighty, as 1 take it. I couldn’t pre- 
tend to such an age. By the by, would you mind telling 
me your name and your age ?” 

“My name is Prosper Vuillemot, and I am eighty- 
seven years old. How old are you ?” 

“I am thirty-two.” 

The venerable farmer took out of his pocket a much 
worn pocket-book and extracted from it a card. 

“Have you noticed the similarity between the figure 
eight and the figure three?” he asked, slyly. “Now if 
you should rub out a part of a line here and a part 
there, the age marked upon this card would be thirty- 
seven, instead of eighty-seven.” 

“That is a most excellent suggestion, Father 
Vuillemot. I see that your great age hasn’t impaired 


286 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


at all your smartness and ingenuity. I have a pencil 
eraser, and I will make a three out of your eight, when 
I rejoin my partner over there in the ruins. I am very 
grateful to you for your help, you may believe. Yet it 
is no more than I should expect of any Frenchman. 
By the by, what was that building, before it was burned 
down ?” 

“That was the Vaulx orphanage. It contained over 
one hundred children, from two to eight years of age. 
A month ago, a patrol of Germans came there, turned 
the children out of doors, to live or die, as it might 
happen, killed two of the men employed there, and car- 
ried off several of the young women. They then seized 
all the food in the house, and burned the building down. 
When the Mayor of Vaulx remonstrated with them, 
they told him that they had acted under orders from 
headquarters/’ 

“But what became of the children?” 

“Most of them died. I find one now and then lying 
dead under a hedge or in a furrow. A very few of 
them, perhaps a dozen in all, were taken in and cared 
for by the farmers hereabouts. We couldn’t do much, 
for we are terribly poor. As fast as we raise anything 
to eat, the Germans seize it. Most of the people here- 
abouts are near the point of starvation themselves. My 
old woman and I took one of the children, a little girl 
of five, but she died after two weeks. There was some- 
thing the matter with her side. She said that a big sol- 
dier man kicked her, but I don't know.” 


GHOSTS OF CHILDREN 


2 87 


“Father Vuillemot,” said Max, solemnly. “There 
are no devils in hell as bad as the bodies. God will 
have to build a special hell for their benefit. Let us hope 
and pray that he will soon attend to the matter.” 

“I will make that prayer to le bon Dieu night and 
morning,” said the old man, devoutly. 

Max now took his leave of the farmer, and retraced 
his steps to the orphanage ruins. Jaqueline was stand- 
ing in the window opening, waiting for him. 

“You are now Felix Duprez and I am Prosper 
Vuillemot,” announced he, when he had joined her. 
“You are seventeen years old, five feet six inches tall, 
have brown eyes and hair and an aquiline nose. You 
were bom at Queant, you are a farmer, and your pres- 
ent place of residence is Lagnicourt, pres de Vaulx.” 

“Max, what are you talking about ?” asked the per- 
plexed Jaqueline. 

He showed her the registration cards, and explained 
them. She scarcely listened to him. She seemed to be 
thinking of something else. 

“Max,” said she, fearfully, “I have heard those mys- 
terious noises again, not once, but several times since 
you went away. I have seen things, too.” 

“What did they look like?” 

“I can't tell you. That is the strangest part of it. 
They come and go so swiftly that I can’t get a look at 
them. It seems to me, though, that they are brown and 
thin and mummy like.” 

“That isn’t a very lucid description. Come, Jaque- 


2 88 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


line, pull yourself together. You are tired and nervous. 
You have got so that you see things. You must think 
about something else. I will get out my map and we 
will plan our route for tonight. After we have got it 
firmly fixed in our minds, I will destroy the map, as it 
mustn't be found on my person, if we are held up and 
questioned." 

Max produced his map, spread it before them on 
the top of his improvised table, and proceeded to mark 
out their route. 

“We will go up this gulley to that old farmer’s 
house," declared he, “we will keep on in the same direc- 
tion, until we are a mile or so beyond the town of Vaulx. 
I think that our wisest course then will be to cross the 
main highway, and take to a high wooded ridge, which 
lies to the north of the highway, and parallel with it. 
This, of course, will bring us to the north of Croisilles 
instead of to the south. There is a vast German army 
encampment just south of Croisilles. You can see 
where I have marked it upon my map. Croisilles is 
only eight or nine miles from Arras, our destination. 
After we leave Croisilles, we must trust to luck, or 
rather follow the guidance of the Lord." 

When he and Jaqueline had agreed upon the route 
for the night, he tore the map into small pieces, and 
threw the pieces away. 

At seven o’clock they ate their supper. After the 
meal had been disposed of, they took the two plates, 
knives and forks down to the spring back of the ruined 


GHOSTS OF CHILDREN 


289 


building to wash them. When they had returned to the 
building, and were coming into the walled off corner, 
in which they had passed the day, Jaqueline was walk- 
ing in advance of her friend. 

“There they are now,” she cried, excitedly, starting 
back and clutching her companion’s arm. “What are 
they, Max, oh, what are they?” 

Max looked, and his eyes almost popped out of his 
head. Around the box of provisions were gathered a 
half dozen of the most singular creatures he had ever 
seen. They were from two and a half to three feet 
high, they were brown, almost black, they were gaunt, 
spectre-like and terrible. They resembled nothing so 
much as huge insects, ichneuma, praying mantes, crick- 
ets. Some of them had a few rags hanging to them. 
If one looked sharply, one might perceive them. Max 
took a step forward, and presto, the whole company of 
ghostly creatures disappeared. They didn’t go any- 
where in particular, they just vanished into thin air. 

“Oh, what are they?” asked Jaqueline again, clasp- 
ing her hands together. 

“I don’t know what you would call them now,” an- 
swered he, reluctantly. “They were children once, and 
this house was an orphanage. The Germans turned 
the children out to starve, and burned the building 
down. That old farmer told me all about it. He 
thought that they were all dead by now, but it seems 
that a few of them still live. They have made their 
burrows in the holes and crevices of the ruins, but how 


19 


290 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


they have managed to get enough to eat to keep their 
poor bodies and souls together up to this time is beyond 
me. I see that they have eaten half our food. It must 
have been a godsend to them.” 

“Max, I want to leave the rest of it for those poor, 
little starving things. May I ?” 

“Well rather. I feel the same way about them as 
you do. Besides that, your wish, Jaqueline, dearest, is 
the best law I know. I daresay that we will be able to 
get along somehow. There are always potatoes and 
turnips to dig, and hen’s nests to rob.” 

“Max, I can’t get my mind away from those ter- 
rible, tortured little beings, those ghosts of children. 
Was there ever anything so cruel ?” 

“Not outside of the German brand. Jaqueline, if 
all the cruelties committed since the world began were 
boiled down into a concentrated extract, it wouldn’t 
equal the ordinary German sort. The officer in com- 
mand of the soldiers who burned the orphanage and 
turned the children out to die told the Mayor of Vaulx 
that he had acted under orders from headquarters. 
That is the strange part of it. I have no doubt that it 
was part of the whole German scientific plan, a plan to 
decimate and weaken the French people by seizing food, 
destroying asylums and other charitable institutions, 
and killing children, so that France would be unable to 
oppose the aggressive moves of Germany. This is Ger- 
man Kultur, pure and simple. This present act of in- 
famy is the finest, the most concrete and illuminating 
example of Kultur that I have seen.” 


GHOSTS OF CHILDREN 


291 


Twilight had now stolen over the landscape, and 
the two fugitives started forth again upon their nightly 
tramp. When they had gone through the ravine, and 
had come out upon the hilltop, close by the house of 
the old farmer who had given Max the cards, they 
could see him, through the gathering dusk, still working 
in the fields. 

“Poor old chap,” spoke Max, commiseratingly. 
“He is eighty-seven years old, and has to work nights 
so that he and his old woman may live.” 

When they had gone a mile further beyond the vil- 
lage of Vaulx, they came down to the highway, mean- 
ing to cross to the north side and to the wooded ridge 
which paralleled the road. A body of troops was pass- 
ing by at the moment, and they watched it from their 
place of concealment in some shrubbery nearby, until it 
had gone. Just as they had forced their way through 
the hedge which bordered the highway, a string of auto- 
mobile trucks came thundering along, and they had to 
take refuge in a culvert which carried a small stream 
under the driveway. When the last truck had rumbled 
by overhead, they made a dash up the farther bank, 
broke through the hedge, and soon gained the woods at 
the top of the hill. Pretty soon their attention was at- 
tracted to a tall pine tree which stood in their path. 
Wooden cross-pieces were nailed upon its trunk as far 
up as they could see, and on the top of the tree they 
could make out a dark object. 

“That’s a crow’s nest, or lookout,” declared Max, 
“I’m going up to take a look around.” 


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When he came to the top, he found a platform of 
boards and a wooden perch to sit upon. By day he 
would have had a view of the country for miles around. 
Now he saw nothing but lights, stationary lights and 
moving lights, steady lights and twinkling lights. He 
turned about to descend, and found Jaqueline at his el- 
bow. 

“Why did you tire yourself by climbing all this 
way?” he asked. 

“I didn’t want to stay alone in the dark, Max.” 

When they came to the ground, Max, who had de- 
scended first, lifted up his arms and helped Jaqueline 
down the last few feet. At that moment, a dozen 
shadowy forms leaped at them from out of the darkness. 
Rough hands were laid upon them, and they knew that 
they were prisoners. 

“Who are you, and where are you going?” de- 
manded the leader of their captors. 

“My name is Prosper Vuillemot, and this is my 
nephew, Felix Duprez,” declared Max, “we are going 
to Croisilles to find work.” 

“You may think that you are going to Croisilles, 
but you are really going back to Vaulx to interview the 
Colonel commanding. Come along now and don’t 
make any trouble, or you will be shot.” 

One of the soldiers took Jaqueline’s arm, and two 
of them escorted Max. Max looked so formidable that 
it seemed the part of wisdom to have a man on each 
side of him. The party soon reached the village of 


GHOSTS OF CHILDREN 


293 


Vaulx, and marching down the main street, a street of 
tumble-down houses, charred timbers and blackened 
walls, they came to a gabled building of brick, which 
seemed to be in a fair state of preservation, and which 
looked like the ordinary town hall of a French village. 
Two officers were sitting at a table upon the porch of 
the building, where they had come on account of the 
heat of a July night. A single incandescent lamp was 
hung over the table by a hastily improvised wire. Max 
and Jaqueline were brought before the table. 


CHAPTER XXI 
Saved by a Halter 

“We found them in the woods of Courcy,” de- 
clared the leader of the patrol. “They climbed up into 
a lookout nest, and we took them as they came down.” 

“What is your name?” asked one of the officers at 
the table of Max. 

“Prosper Vuillemot.” 

“And the name of the boy?” 

“Felix Duprez. He is my nephew.” 

“Where were you going?” 

“We were going to Croisilles to find work.” 

“What kind of work V 

“We are farm hands.” 

“You don’t have to go to Croisilles to find work. I 
will give you work right here, getting in our oats and 
hay.” 

“How much do you pay?” 

“It isn’t a question of pay. The privilege of work- 
ing for his Imperial Majesty should be enough for you. 
Have you registration cards ?” 

Max and Jaqueline produced their cards and handed 
them over. Max noticed now for the first time that 
Jaqueline’s face, neck and hands were covered with 

294 


SAVED BY A HALTER 


295 


smudges of dirt. He wondered how she had found the 
opportunity to so ornament herself. The man who had 
put the questions, who was evidently the superior offi- 
cer, scrutinized the cards closely, and handed them to 
his companion, who also examined them minutely. 
The two then whispered together, meanwhile casting 
suspicious glances at the prisoners. Max didn’t like 
those glances, neither was he favorably impressed by 
such an amount of whispering. 

“As I said before,” at length spoke the superior 
officer, “there is no need of your going to Croisilles for 
work when there is so much need of you here. To in- 
sure your presence when I want you in the morning, I 
am going to put you both up at our hotel. I am going 
to give you the best room in the place.” 

“Sergeant,” he continued, addressing a man who 
stood upon the porch behind him. “Take these two 
farmers down stairs, and put them in the large double 
chamber at the end of the hall. Give them all the per- 
quisites and luxuries which go with the room, that is 
to say, a pitcher of water and a candle.” 

The sergeant and two of his subordinates closed in 
on the prisoners, ushered them into the building, took 
them through the central hallway to the back end of the 
structure, and down a stairway to the cellar. Max en- 
tertained for a moment the thought of starting some- 
thing and making a break for liberty, but gave up the 
idea. If he had been alone, he would have tried it, but 
there was Jaqueline to think of. The sergeant un- 


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locked a heavy, oaken door which stood at the extreme 
rear end of the cellar, and pushed his prisoners into a 
large, square, stone-floored chamber. One of the men 
fetched a pitcher of water and a candle, the door was 
shut and locked, and the two captives were left to a 
contemplation of their unpleasant situation. 

“Well, what do you think of it, Jaqueline?” asked 
Max. 

“I think, of course, that this is the end of it,” an- 
swered she, brushing away a tear. “To think that we 
should have come all this way, only to be caught at last. 
They will surely find that I am a girl, and they will 
send us back to Cambrai.” 

“I’m not so sure of that. Things might be a great 
deal worse, and, according to the old saying, while 
there's life there's hope. We have a lot to be thankful 
for. They might have taken off your cap and discov- 
ered all that beautiful hair of yours. They might have 
searched us, and found my automatic and a lot of other 
useful things, but they didn’t. The automatic alone 
would have settled us.” 

Max made a circuit of the room, and examined the 
walls, the ceiling and the floor. The ceilings were very 
high, and the chamber had but two windows, one in the 
side wall and one in the rear wall. These windows 
were very small, not more than a foot high and two 
feet wide, and their sills were fully eleven feet from the 
floor. There was a pile of straw in one corner of the 
floor, and the sum total of the furniture of the apart- 


SAVED BY A HALTER 


297 


ment consisted of two small, spindle backed chairs. Max 
placed a chair under the rear wall window, and stood 
upon it. Though he stretched his arms to the utter- 
most, he still lacked almost three feet of reaching the 
sill. He tried to spring upward and grasp the sill, but 
the chair, which was a flimsy affair, crumpled under 
him, and he had a nasty tumble. Jaqueline ran to his 
assistance, but he picked himself up, and laughed her 
away. 

“Humpty Dumpty had nothing the advantage of 
me,” declared he. “I have another scheme for reaching 
that window which I think may succeed. There are 
more ways than one of skinning a cat. I will stand 
upon the remaining chair, the whole one, and you will 
climb up over me, and stand upon my shoulders. You 
will then be able to reach the window, raise the sash, 
and crawl through.” 

“But what is to become of you? After I am 
through the window, you are no better off than before.” 

“I will take care of myself. You needn’t worry 
about me. The first time one of my jailers comes to 
the door, I will throttle him, and make my escape. You 
can wait in some convenient place and I will join you 
there. Suppose we make it that big pine tree, the one 
with the crow’s nest. I think that you will be safe 
there, or in some hiding place near by. That patrol 
happened along last night probably by accident. They 
are not using the lookout now, as it is too far from the 
battlefront.” 


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MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“All right,” agreed Jaqueline, with unlooked-for 
alacrity. “I’ll wait for you at the crow’s nest, always 
providing, of course, that I get through the window, 
which I doubt.” 

Max moved the chair under the window, stood upon 
it, and Jaqueline commenced her climb. Twice she 
slipped back but, upon the third trial, Max lifting her, 
while she steadied herself against the wall, she suc- 
ceeded in getting her feet upon his shoulders, and stand- 
ing upright. 

“Can you reach the window?” he asked. 

“Yes, my breast is even with the sill. The sash is 
hung at the top with hinges, and is meant to swing in- 
ward and upward. It sticks fast though, and I can’t 
get it open.” 

Max handed her his knife, she thrust the big blade 
of it under the sash, and pried upon it, with the result 
that the sash gave and swung open. 

“Now pull yourself up and crawl through,” he 
commanded. “I’ll lift you with my hands under your 
feet. Now then, up you go.” 

“I can’t do it,” she lamented, after she had made 
quite a struggle. “The sash comes down on my neck, 
and the more I push, the tighter it grips me.” 

“Come down then, and we’ll find something to hold 
the sash up.” 

He took hold of her legs, and helped her to the floor. 
He then wrenched loose one of the spindles from the 
back of the broken chair, and gave it to her. 


SAVED BY A. HALTER 


299 


“That will keep the sash up, while you are wriggling 
through,” said he. 

Again she climbed to his shoulders, and again she 
opened the sash. After she had propped it open with the 
chair-back spindle, it gave her no further trouble, and 
she got through the opening quite easily. The ground 
outside of the window was about three feet lower than 
the sill, so that standing upon terra firma, she was able 
to thrust her head into the room. 

“Good-bye, Max,” said she. “I’ll meet you at the 
crow’s nest.” 

€ “At the crow’s nest,” answered Max, somewhat du- 
biously. 

He was disappointed at the eagerness with which she 
had accepted his proposal. 

“She might have shown some reluctance about leav- 
ing me here to get out of the scrape as best I could,” 
thought he. “I won’t blame her, though, her peril was 
much greater than mine.” 

After he had sat, engaged in gloomy meditation, for 
something like a quarter of an hour, he was startled by 
a rustling sound which came from the wall above his 
head. He turned about, and saw that a rope, about four 
feet long and five-eighths of an inch thick, had come 
through the window and was dangling against the wall. 
A moment later, Jaqueline’s head appeared in the open- 
ing. She placed her finger upon her lips, enjoining si- 
lence. 

He seized the rope, expecting that it would give, 


300 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


but she had somehow made it good and fast. It was an 
easy matter for him to go up the rope, hand over hand. 
When he got his grip upon the sill, Jaqueline reached 
for his arms under the arm pits, she pulled and he 
pulled, with the result that he came through the window 
rather quickly, so that Jaqueline fairly tumbled over 
backward. Jaqueline was a strong girl, a much strong- 
er girl than was indicated by her slender appearance. 
Max curiously inspected the rope and Jaqueline’s meth- 
od of fastening it. The rope was an ordinary halter, 
she had made it fast to a wagon stake, a piece of hard- 
wood, four feet long, three inches wide and two inches 
thick, and had placed this wooden bar crosswise of the 
window. Not one woman in ten would have known 
enough to do this. Jaqueline was smarter than the 
other nine. 

Max hauled the rope through the window, let down 
the sash carefully into place, and picking up the rope 
and the wooden bar, followed Jaqueline’s pull upon his 
arm. It was very dark back of their prison building, 
but they knew that they might stumble upon the enemy 
at any moment. They walked down through a lot 
which was fenced in on both sides, and after going a 
hundred feet, or so, they came to the open door of a 
barn, and to a wagon standing in front of the barn. 

“I pulled the stake from this wagon,” whispered 
Jaqueline, “and I took the halter from the neck of a 
horse in the barn. I was hiding by the fence, when a 
man came with a horse and wagon. He unhitched the 


SAVED BY A HALTER 


301 


horse, put a halter round his neck, and led him into the 
barn. When the man came out, and went away, I stole 
into the barn, and got the halter.” 

Max replaced the wagon stake in its socket, and en- 
tering the barn, groped around until he had found the 
horse and tethered him again to his stanchion. 

“I didn’t want to leave any traces about,” whispered 
he. “It doesn’t look as if we had escaped by the win- 
dow. They will imagine perhaps that we bribed our 
way out.” 

When they came to the bottom of the lot, they 
climbed the fence, and again took up their journey 
toward Croisilles, being careful first to put a good dis- 
tance between them and the road. They were now, as 
they werg before their capture, upon the north side of 
the highway. 

“Jaqueline,” chided Max, “I owe my escape to you, 
and I am grateful for your help. At the same time, it 
was very wrong of you to disobey my instructions. 
You were to wait for me at the crow’s nest. You took 
a great risk in remaining here.” 

“Max, what sort of a girl do you think I am ? Did 
you imagine for one moment that I would go away and 
leave you? You didn’t leave me when I was in the 
conciergerie at Cambrai. I agreed to go to the crow’s 
nest tree in the woods, because I knew that you would 
talk forever if I didn’t agree. At the same time, I had 
no intention of leaving this neighborhood, as long as 
you were a prisoner.” 


302 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Jaqueline, you are a gimper. Do you know what 
a gimper is ?” 

“Certainly. A gimper is an aviator who is faithful 
to the last. When a brother airman is getting the 
worst of it, he stays around and helps, he doesn’t turn 
tail and run away. I can also give you the definition 
of an egg, a vulture, and a goopher.” 

“Jaqueline, your knowledge of the vocabulary of 
bird men is complete and thorough. Where did you 
get it?” 

“Of my brother, Paul de Keranec, of course. I told 
you all about him. Have you forgotten ?” 

“I haven’t forgotten, but I wasn't thinking of him 
at the moment. When one has once known Captain de 
Keranec, one doesn’t forget him. You told me that you 
spoke to him about me. What did he say?” 

“He said that he loved you.” 

“Did he? That was kind of him. I’ll bet, though, 
that he thinks no more of me than I do of him. Now 
if a certain relative of his should also love me, I wouldn’t 
ask for anything more.” 

“When you see that certain relative, you might ask 
her. Of course you can’t ask her unless she is dressed 
properly and becomingly.” 

When the first gray color of morning came into the 
eastern sky, they reached a wide, deep river, which 
flowed between fringes of elderberry, juniper, and osier 
trees and bushes. To get to the river, they passed 
across a farm. A much dilapidated barn stood almost 
upon the river bank. 


SAVED BY A HALTER 


303 


“This is the Sensee river,” declared Max, “I had it 
upon my map. It comes down through the town of 
Croisilles, which lies a mile above us. Morning will 
soon be here, and it will be dangerous to proceed fur- 
ther. There must be a hay loft in that barn. If the Ger- 
mans come, we can hide in the hay. Come on, I’m go- 
ing to find out.” 

Entering the barn, they found a solitary cow, lying 
in a stall, and chewing her cud. Climbing a rickety lad- 
der, they came into the loft, which was half filled with 
hay. 

“This is as good a hiding place as any,” declared 
Max. “We will lie here all day, get a good sleep, and 
resume our journey tonight. We are now not over 
nine miles from Arras. Sit down on the hay, Jaqueline, 
dear, I am going down stairs.” 

“What are you going down stairs for?” 

“Jaqueline, what do you most feel the lack of at the 
present time ?” 

“I feel the lack of breakfast. I never wanted it so 
much.” 

“That is what I am going for.” 

Max was gone all of fifteen minutes. During the 
most of that time, there was a prodigious racket on the 
floor below, and in a small shed which stood next the 
barn. Besides the noise made by Max, there was much 
clucking of hens and flapping of wings. When Max 
came up stairs, he produced from his pockets four hen’s 
eggs. 


304 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Here is your breakfast, Jaqueline,” said he. 

“But they are raw. I can't eat raw eggs.” 

“Yes, you can. It is very easy. After you have 
eaten them raw, you will never want them cooked. I 
will show you how it’s done.” 

He took out his knife, and punctured either end of 
an egg with the small blade, then, throwing back his 
head, and putting one end of the egg to his lips, he 
quickly imbibed its contents. 

“That’s good,” declared he. “Now you try one.” 

After he had prepared another egg, she took it, and 
made a wry face. 

“I feel as the man felt who first ate an oyster,” said 

she. 

Nevertheless she put it to her mouth, and com- 
menced to pull at it. Presently, her face had a pleased 
expression, and it was plain to be seen that she had be- 
come a convert to the raw egg cult. 

After she had eaten two of the eggs, Max gave her 
a third. 

“But you have only had one,” protested she, “you 
must eat this one.” 

“I ate two downstairs,” declared the mendacious 
Max. 

After the conclusion of their scanty breakfast, they 
lay down upon the hay in a far corner of the loft for a 
much needed nap. Jaqueline edged over until she was 
quite close to her companion, he took her hand in his, 
and they quickly went to sleep. After they had slept 


SAVED BY A HALTER 


305 


for some hours, they were awakened by voices which 
seemed to come from the fields adjacent to the barn. 
Max sprang up, went to one of the round holes which 
served as windows to the loft, and looked out. 

“German soldiers !” he exclaimed. “There are four 
of them, and they are coming to the barn. We must 
burrow in the hay, until they are gone.” 

He took a pitchfork, which was standing against the 
wall, and throwing aside a quantity of hay, made a deep 
pit for Jaqueline. After she had crept into it, he cov- 
ered her completely. Going now to the wall of the loft, 
some distance away, he dug a hole for himself, between 
the hay and the wall, and getting into it, pulled the hay 
over his head and body, being careful to leave a small 
opening, so that he might see what was going on. 
Hardly had they concealed themselves, when the four 
men came into the barn, and commenced to climb the 
ladder. 


20 


CHAPTER XXII 
Spurlos Versenkt 


“There’s no one here,” declared one of the soldiers, 
when all four had mounted to the loft. “We’ve had 
our trouble for nothing.” 

“I’m not so sure of that,” remarked another. “They 
may be hidden under the hay. I’m going to take a few 
bayonet stabs for luck.” 

The man went here and there, thrusting the bayonet 
of his rifle into the hay. His point seemed to meet with 
no resistance from any solid body. Suddenly, at a point 
in the pile, halfway between Max and Jaqueline, there 
was a commotion in the hay, it was flung to one side, 
and a small boy, perhaps five or six years old, sprang 
forth, rushed between the men’s legs to the ladder, and 
half clambered, half fell to the floor below. The four 
soldiers went after him, pell mell, and the loft was left 
to Max and Jaqueline. Max came out of his place of 
concealment, and ran to the round window. Jaqueline 
followed him. 

The boy was running as fast as his little legs could 
carry him, through the fields, a hundred feet from the 
barn. The four soldiers had come out of the barn and 
were watching the boy. 

306 


SFURLOS VERSENKT 


307 


“Bet you I can hit him,” said one of them. 

“Bet you a bottle of beer you don’t,” spoke another. 

The first soldier raised his rifle and fired at the boy, 
but the little codger, untouched, ran only the faster. A 
second man fired, and then a third, but both missed. 

“You are a fine lot of jaegers,” declared the fourth 
man. “You couldn’t hit the side of this barn at a hun- 
dred feet. Just watch me.” 

He raised his rifle, took careful aim, and pulled the 
trigger. The small boy sprang into the air like a rab- 
bit, and fell upon his face in the tall grass. The four 
Germans, laughing uproariously, marched away in the 
direction whence they had come. 

“What is it?” asked Jaqueline, anxiously. “They 
haven't killed him, have they?” 

The round window was small, she was standing 
back of Max, and had not witnessed the denouement. 

“No,” prevaricated Max. “He got away into that 
clump of trees the other side of the field.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad. It would have broken my heart 
if they had. That little fellow saved our lives. By 
jumping out of the hay, and escaping down stairs, he 
distracted the attention of those beasts, and drew them 
away from us. I wonder why he hid himself in the 
hay, and when he came. He must have come when we 
were asleep.” 

“Jaqueline, I don’t think it would be wise to stop 
here any longer. This hay loft doesn’t seem to be a 
very safe place. Let us go down to the river, and get 


308 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


into that copse of elderberries and junipers which runs 
along the bank. We will go down stream until we find 
a bridge, all the time keeping under cover.” 

Max went down the ladder first. When he reached 
the bottom, he turned about to help Jaqueline, who was 
six feet above him. 

“Jacqueline,” he cried, “your shoe is covered with 
blood, and your stocking is soaked with it. Darling 
Jaqueline, you are wounded. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“It is nothing, Max. That man pricked my leg 
when he was stabbing the hay with his bayonet. It is 
really nothing at all.” 

Max caught her in his arms, and lifted her down 
the rest of the way. Then he pulled up her garter and 
rolled down her stocking. The wound was in the left 
leg, a few inches below the knee. The point of the bay- 
onet had gone into her calf, and had come out again an 
inch away. He took his handkerchief, and bound it 
tightly around the injured member. 

“That will have to do for the present,” said he. 
“When we get into a safe and convenient place, I will 
attend to it thoroughly. Jaqueline, you dear, dear girl, 
it must have hurt you terribly. How did you keep from 
crying out?” 

“I gritted my teeth, and said to myself, T won't 
scream, I won’t scream.’ ” 

“Jaqueline, you are a heroine, I never knew before 
the kind of stuff French girls were made of.” 

As they were crossing the barn floor to the door, 


SPURLOS VERSENKT 


309 


Max stooped and picked up a pigeon wing feather. 
Jaqueline noticed the fact, but refrained from question- 
ing him. She knew that he never did anything without 
a reason. When they had stolen from the barn, they 
ran, bent down, alongside a fence, and got into the 
fringe of bushes which lined the river. Max went 
ahead and cleared the way, brushing the branches to 
one side, Jaqueline followed a few paces in the rear, and 
so they came down the river. When they had followed 
the bank for a half mile or so, Max stopped. 

“Here is where I give your wound a scientific dress- 
ing/’ said he. “We couldn’t find a better place. We 
are amply concealed, that smooth piece of turf next the 
river is just the spot for an operation, we have water 
close by, in fact we have everything needful. So kneel 
down with your left knee only upon the ground, and I 
will go to work.” 

Jaqueline knelt obediently as ordered, with her right 
foot and her left knee upon the ground. Max rolled 
down her stocking again, untied his handkerchief, and 
bathed the wound with water from the river. 

“The bleeding has stopped,” declared he, “I am now 
going to give you antiseptic treatment.” 

“What is the need of that, Max? It is only a pin 
prick after all, and will soon heal.” 

“You might have blood poisoning, Jaqueline dear- 
est. I don’t want to lose you, after bringing you so far. 
That fellow may have lately thrust his bayonet into a 
dead dog, or cat.” 


310 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“But you haven’t any antiseptic, Max. How are 
you going to treat me antiseptically, without the where- 
withal? You should have a bottle of Hydrogen Perox- 
ide, but you haven’t any.” 

“I have something just as good. I have about an 
ounce of chloroform left in the four ounce bottle which 
Papa Louvac gave me. Chloroform is a fairly good 
antiseptic, though few people know it. No poison has 
a chance against chloroform. Father Louvac gave some 
to Zellner, and I gave a dose to Stirpitz. Both of those 
fellows were poison, boiled down and concentrated, and 
it knocked them out.” 

Max took from his pocket the pigeon’s feather, 
washed it in the river, and saturated the feather part of 
it in chloroform. 

“Jaqueline, darling,” cautioned he, “this will hurt 
a little at first, but you will feel all the better for it in a 
minute.” 

He pushed the quill part of the feather through the 
puncture, and taking the end of it between finger and 
thumb, drew the feather part into the wound. 

“Ouch !” cried she, as she felt the first twinge of it. 

After twisting the feather for some moments, he 
withdrew it, cleansed it thoroughly in the river, again 
soaked it in the chloroform, and again applied it. When 
he had performed the operation three times, he desisted. 

“Now how do you feel, Jaqueline, dear?” 

“Very much better. After we left the barn, the 
wound ached terribly. When you first pushed the fea- 


SPURLOS VERSENKT 


311 


ther through, oh, how it did smart ! Now, though, the 
pain has all gone from my leg, and it feels delightfully 
cool.” 

“Jaqueline, I am glad to see that you really have 
legs. Most girls have limbs only.” 

‘‘I am not ashamed of my legs.” 

“I can assure you, Jaqueline, that you have no rea- 
son to be.” 

Max now took Jaqueline’s little handkerchief, fold- 
ed it into a two-inch square, clapped it upon the wound, 
and bound it with his own big handkerchief. 

“If I had safety pins, I could make a much better 
job of it,” said he. 

“I have some. I will give them to you presently.” 

She turned away from him, put her hand some- 
where inside her clothing, and produced two small 
safety pins. When the handkerchief was properly fas- 
tened, and her stocking and garter readjusted, they re- 
sumed their tramp alongside the river. 

After they had gone a half mile further, they came 
to an ordinary country cross road, which ended at the 
river bank. A large scow, evidently a ferry boat, lay 
end on to the end of the road, and was kept in place by a 
good sized rope, which was fastened to a tree upon 
either side of the river, and which passed through iron 
rings or guides which were elevated above the boat by 
stanchions. 

Two hundred feet or so below the ferry, there was 
a dam, over which the water poured in great volume. 


312 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


Below the dam the river widened out into a pool, two 
hundred feet in width, where the water boiled and 
whirled about, before it recommenced its journey 
toward the north. 

“We can’t cross by this ferry,” declared Max, “our 
combined strength wouldn’t move the scow. There’s a 
bridge further down, if I remember rightly, and we 
must wait until we get to it. I think that I saw a bridge 
when I was flying hereabouts, and that I put it down 
on my map.” 

Max was right. When they had gone a short way 
further, and had rounded a turn, they came to a bridge, 
or rather a structure which had once been a bridge. In 
some past day of the war it had been so damaged by 
shell fire that three-fourths of it was gone, and the rest 
of it seemed to hang in the air like a spider web. As 
frail as it was, though, it held together under the weight 
of Max and Jaqueline, and brought them safely to the 
further side of the river. 

It was now six o’clock in the evening, and the wind, 
which all day had been in the east, veered about and 
blew from the opposite quarter. There now came to 
their ears a continuous rumbling, grumbling, murmur- 
ing sound. 

“What is it?” asked Jaqueline. “It sounds like 
thunder, but there isn’t a cloud in the sky.” 

“That is cannon fire. We haven’t heard it before, 
because the wind until now, has been blowing in the 
wrong direction. Jaqueline, we are approaching the 


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battle line. We are coming to the place where we will 
be put to the supreme test. Are you afraid ?” 

“No. We can meet no danger worse than those 
through which we have already passed.” 

They had come a long distance out of their way in 
looking for the bridge. Now that they were across the 
river, Max deemed it wise to double back for a mile or 
more. When they had arrived at a point almost oppo- 
site the moored scow, the sound of shouting, screaming 
and swearing came to their ears from the further side 
of the river. Max and Jaqueline concealed themselves 
in some willows which stood next the dam, and waited 
to see what would happen. 

In a moment a strange procession came down the 
road which led to the river bank and the ferry boat. 
Half a dozen old men headed the troop. Then came a 
lot of women with babies. A dozen children, of both 
sexes and all ages, from three to six, shifted about be- 
tween the legs of the older folks, and got in the way 
generally. There were two score people in the throng, 
they seemed to be peasants, or villagers, and they were 
half walking, half running. All of them, or all of them 
that could, carried some kind of a burden. Some wo- 
men had great bundles upon their heads, others carried 
baskets or small articles of furniture. Old men pushed 
carts, and boys trundled wheelbarrows. They were all 
in very much of a hurry, and the reason was obvious. 
A dozen German soldiers, led by a sergeant, followed 
close behind them, and prodded with their bayonets such 


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of the fleeing company as loitered too far in the rear. 

“What is it?” asked Jaqueline, anxiously. “What 
are they doing with those poor people ?” 

“Forcing them out of the country, of course. Driv- 
ing them from their homes. They ate too much, and 
the food was needed for the Kaiser’s men.” 

The crowd of fugitives tumbled into the ferry boat, 
the half dozen old men and some of the women pulled 
upon the rope, and the big scow moved slowly away 
from the shore. The current was swift at this point, the 
rope sagged downstream, and) the old men made hard 
work of it. When the boat had reached the middle of 
the river, one of the Germans slipped behind his fellows, 
to the tree about which the rope was fastened, and slyly 
slashed the rope with his trench knife. Three times 
he drew the sharp blade across the yielding strands. At 
the third slash, the rope parted, the end of it flew into 
the air like the tail of a snake, and the cable commenced 
to run hot through the guiding rings of the ferry boat. 
The men and women strove frantically to hold it, but 
the scow had turned downstream, and the strong cur- 
rent was too much for them. The rope whipped out of 
the grommets, and the ferry boat quickly drew near the 
dam. As the bottom of it touched the crest of the dam, 
it came broadside to, and then toppled over and fell 
bottom up into the whirlpool below the dam. One great 
horrid scream arose to heaven, as the boat went over, 
and then all was silent. 

Very few of the forty victims could swim, and these 


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few were powerless in the swirling flood of the pool. 
The heads which bobbed here and there on the surface 
of the water grew gradually less in number. The dozen 
German soldiers stood on the bank of the river, below 
the dam, like a row of vultures, watching the spectacle. 

“Fritzie,” spoke the sergeant, “that was a good 
joke. I have never seen a better. It was against or- 
ders, though, and may lead to trouble. Don’t do it 
again.” 

“What villainous beasts they look !” exclaimed 
Jaqueline, in a low tone. “Have you ever seen their 
equals ?” 

“Yes, many times,” answered Max. “I have been 
in the fight for two years, and Eve seen thousands of 
them. I’ve seen them alive, and I’ve seen them dead, 
and they are all alike. Their faces always show that 
they are natural murderers. What fool was it who said 
that the German people were a good sort, that we were 
not fighting them, that we were fighting the Kaiser and 
his junkers?” 

The struggling victims had gradually disappeared, 
and there was now left but one graybeard of seventy, 
who held to a woman with a child clasped to her breast, 
and struck out feebly for the shore. The sergeant 
paced frantically up and down the bank. 

“Get them !” he shouted, “get them ! They mustn’t 
live to tell about it.” 

A dozen shots were fired, one after another; the old 
man threw up his hands, and, together with the woman 


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and child, sank out of sight.. The Germans stood and 
watched for a while longer. Some of them had a queer 
look on their faces, as if the enormity of the crime had 
shocked even their dull and brutal sensibilities. At last 
they got into line, and marched back up the road. 
Jaqueline was pale and wild eyed with horror and in- 
dignation. 

“Was there ever anything so terribly cruel?” she 
cried. “I shall never forget the look of fright and de- 
spair on the faces of those poor creatures, as the boat 
overturned. I shall never forget their last dying 
screams. Was there ever before such an instance of 
devilish and wanton murder?” 

“I could give you lots of instances, Jaqueline. When 
we look at the long record of German atrocities, we 
must acknowledge that this one was but a bagatelle. It 
was a very fair effort, but nothing extraordinary. I 
suppose, though, that his Imperial Majesty, if he hears 
of it, will give thanks to God, and order some more 
medals.” 

After going up the river for some distance further, 
they found a resting place in a hollow of the bank, and 
sat down to wait for the night. Max prospected around 
in a neighboring field and barn yard, dug up some po- 
tatoes, and found three more eggs, and a tin can. When 
he had made a small fire of driftwood and had cooked 
their supper, it was served upon a large flat stone, and 
they ate it with relish. Jaqueline, though, owned up to 
a desire for salt and pepper. 


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When it had grown dark enough for their purpose, 
they again struck through the fields toward the west. 
After walking three or four miles, they came to a hill ; 
when they had come to the top of the hill they entered 
a dense wood ; when , 1 they had passed through the wood, 
they found themselves standing upon the edge of a 
steep, high bluff, from which they had a view of several 
square miles of valley, fields and woods. All afternoon 
the rumbling of the guns had kept up, with every mile 
of approach toward the battle front, their thunder had 
increased. Now, as Max and Jaqueline left the forest 
and came into the open, the roar of artillery was fairly 
deafening. It would commence by a long rattle of 
barrage and machine gun fire, would end up with a 
crash of big guns like an earthquake, and then would 
commence all over again. With the flame of firing 
cannon and exploding shells, with the bright flare of 
rockets and the effulgent rays of searchlights the whole 
amphitheatre before them was one great illumination. 

“To-morrow,” said Max, “we will have to go 
through that hell on earth. We can’t stop where we 
are. We will have to go forward, or go back. How 
do you feel about it?” 

“I don’t see how we are ever going to get through. 
Can’t we go around somehow, so as to avoid it all ?” 

“There is no going around, it’s all like this. We 
have got to go straight through, and that’s all there is 
about it. Furthermore, when we pass through the Ger- 
man battle front, we arrive in No Man’s Land. If we 


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should happen to live through No Man’s Land, we run 
up against the British fire, and that’s just as bad as this. 
Pretty desperate chance, isn’t it? Never mind, Jaque- 
line, dearest, don’t worry. I have a plan half thought 
out, by which we may be able to go a great part of the 
way unharmed. Let us lie down and sleep awhile, and 
we will go to it an hour before the dawn.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 
The Whippet Tank 

At four o’clock Max touched Jaqueline's hand and 
she awoke immediately. “Come, Jaqueline,” he called, 
“the day has come, the all important day, which will 
decide whether we lose or win out. Hasten with your 
toilet, as we must be on our way.” 

“How can I make my toilet when I haven’t any 
water? I wish I could wash my face and hands, at 
least.” 

“In a little while you will be able to wash your face 
and hands, or any other part of your person, as you go 
along, without stopping.” 

“That sounds very enigmatical. I wonder what you 
mean.” 

“This is my plan, Jaqueline,” said Max, as they 
trudged along the crest of the ridge toward the south. 
“There is a small river hereabouts called ‘the Morny 
river’ which runs north through the German lines, and 
empties into the Scarpe. I once flew over this part of 
the country, and jotted it down on one of my maps. 
The Scarpe, as you know, two or three miles above its 
junction with the Morny, passes through the outskirts 
of Arras. My plan is to float down the Morny river, 

319 


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through the German lines, get into the Scarpe, and by 
the Scarpe, enter Arras.” 

“But the Germans will see us floating by, it will be 
very dangerous, we will never get through alive.” 

“Not if we float as I propose.” 

When they had gone a mile to the south along the 
ridge, meanwhile keeping under the shelter of the trees, 
they descended to the valley below, to look for the 
Morny river. Pretty soon they came to a long reach 
of unoccupied trenches. 

“We are still a mile behind the German third line,” 
declared Max. “This was doubtless a part of the Ger- 
man defenses before their last advance. Our river 
should be just beyond.” 

As they passed along in the rear of the trenches 
they could not help but notice the completeness of their 
every detail. They were dug and built with mathemat- 
ical precision, and were connected with each other by 
many underground galleries, which galleries in turn, 
were probably linked the one to the other by cross gal- 
leries. 

A hundred yards beyond the end of the trenches 
they came suddenly and unexpectedly upon the long 
sought river. It ran between high banks, and was at 
this point a small stream, not over thirty feet in width. 
They found themselves presently in a wagon track, 
which led down to the water, and following this path, 
they came to a bridge of wooden planks. Some rods 
below the bridge, the stream entered a thicket of shrubs 
and second growth trees. Out of this thicket, at that 


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moment, a boat shot upstream, a boat containing two 
German soldiers. Max and Jaqueline turned about, and 
made for the trenches, but they were too late, they had 
been seen. One of the men, a non-commissioned officer, 
commanded them to halt. As they only accelerated 
their steps, the Germans fastened their boat to the 
bridge, and came after them on the double quick. 

When the fugitives came to the first line of trenches 
Max caught Jaqueline by the arm, swung her down into 
the cutting, and jumped after her. Running swiftly 
along the smooth bottom they presently rounded a bend 
in the trench, and were hidden from the view of their 
pursuers. 

“Get into this tunnel,” commanded Max, when they 
had come to the first trench connecting gallery. “There 
are a dozen of them further on and they won’t know 
which one we have taken.” 

They dashed into the gallery, and following it for 
seventy-five feet or more, came to a cross gallery. Max 
stepped around the corner to the left, and pulled Jaque- 
line after him. There was a peculiar scurrying, patter- 
ing sound about them and something brushed across 
their feet. 

“What’s that, Max?” asked Jaqueline, fearfully. 

“Rats.” 

Jaqueline was really afraid for the first time since 
they had set out upon their travels. She went, involun- 
tarily, to clutch her skirts about her, forgetting that she 
hadn’t any. 

21 


32 2 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


They could hear the men’s voices indistinctly. The 
sound came from the main trench and seemed to indi- 
cate an argument as to the whereabouts of the fugitives. 
Pretty soon, a footfall sounded near by, and they knew 
that one of their pursuers was coming up the gallery 
which they occupied. Max and Jaqueline flattened 
themselves against the wall, just around the corner to 
the left, and waited, breathlessly. Max held his auto- 
matic in readiness by the barrel. It would be very un- 
fortunate for the man, if lie should turn to the left, 
when he came to the cross gallery. When he reached 
the cross tunnel, he turned to the right, and the fugitives 
breathed more easily. 

“Come on now,” said Max, when the soldier had 
passed out of hearing. “We must get into the main 
trench, and to the river, while they are hunting through 
these galleries.” 

They ran down the gallery, and came to the main 
trench, Max squinted around the corner of the gallery 
and the trench, but could see no one. He climbed has- 
tily out of the cutting, lifted Jaqueline to a place beside 
him, and the two hot-footed it for the river. Max 
loosed the painter of the boat, handed Jaqueline to the 
stern thwart, and was about to shove off, but thought 
better of it. After considering for a moment, he took 
up one of the floor boards of the bridge, a soft pine 
plank, six feet long and one foot wide, and tossed it 
into the boat. Stepping into the craft himself, he took 
the oars, and, with a few powerful strokes, sent her 


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323 


tinder the leafy canopy of the thicket. After they had 
gone downstream a thousand feet, he came to the bank, 
landed Jaqueline and the plank, and pulled the boat into 
the bushes, until it was hidden effectually. He next un- 
fastened the rope painter from the skiff, and gave one 
end of it to Jaqueline. 

“Hold it tightly/' he admonished, “and we will un- 
twist it.” 

She went away to the end of the painter, and held it 
taut, while he untwisted the strands. When he had 
finished they had three strong cords, each of fifteen feet 
length. 

“I wish you would tell me what you are going to 
do,” said she, plaintively. 

“If I explained it, we would lose time, which is very 
valuable. You will know just as quickly by watching 
my operations.” 

He went now into the underbrush to one side, and, 
in a moment, returned with a tremendous armful of 
green branches, which he had cut from a small thick 
leafed poplar. Jaqueline was sitting upon the edge of 
the boat, munching upon a sausage, which she held 
between the two halves of a biscuit. 

“I found them done up in paper, under the stern 
seat,” said she. “There were four sausages and four 
biscuits. I have kept half of them for you.” 

After Max had eaten he threw the pine plank into 
the water, took the cords and the poplar branches, and 
wading into the water to his middle, laid the branches 


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crossways upon the plank, so that they overhung two 
or three feet on each side of it, and bound them securely 
with his cord, being careful to have the cords out of 
sight. When he had finished, his floating plank looked 
to be nothing more than a pile of drifting foliage. 

The thicket which lined both sides of the river came 
to an end a short way below them. They could see where 
it opened up, a hundred yards away. A few rods fur- 
ther down, on both sides of the stream, commenced the 
three lines of German trenches. They were beginning 
to open up with rifles, machine guns and cannon. The 
thunder of battle was already terrific and deafening. 

“Come on, Jaqueline,” exhorted Max, “our argosy 
is ready, and only awaits its passengers. The supreme 
moment is at hand, the next hour will tell whether we 
sink or swim. It is now or never.” 

“But we can’t float upon that plank,” objected she. 
“It wouldn’t hold the two of us.” 

“We are not going to float upon the plank, our 
place is underneath.” 

“Oh, now I see what you propose. How stupid of 
me not to understand before.” 

She waded obediently into the water up to her waist, 
and took hold of the plank. Max guided it to the center 
of the stream, where they stood up to their necks. 

“Now Jaqueline,” he commanded, “stoop down, get 
your head under the branches, and put one arm across 
the plank.” 

When she had done as instructed, and he had fol- 


THE WHIPPET TANK 


325 


lowed suit, he was on the right and at the front of the 
plank, she was on the left, at the back end. They then 
commenced to wade downstream. Very soon, the bot- 
tom went away from them, and they were floating, and 
swimming gently, being almost altogether supported by 
their buoyant raft. Max, with his free hand, guiding 
the queer craft, and keeping it in the middle of the river. 

“Here are the trenches,” warned he, as they swept 
out of the underbrush into the open. “Don’t make a 
sound, and don’t push the plank faster than the cur- 
rent.” 

There were trenches filled with men upon both sides 
of them, trenches without end, and then still more 
trenches. From the trenches farthest away, the front 
line trenches, there was an unbroken line of flame from 
rifles and machine guns. Cannon of different calibre, 
seventy-sevens and big Berthas, sheltered and concealed 
by mounds of earth and trunks of trees, blazed away 
in one continued roll of thunder. Max wanted to say 
something else to Jaqueline, but the din was so over- 
powering and so everlasting, that he couldn’t make him- 
self heard, and so gave it up. 

Here and there, men stood near the banks of the 
river, in the shelter of trees, or rocks, and waited their 
turn, while they lounged and smoked. Some of them 
glanced at the pile of branches, floating with the current 
in the middle of the stream, but gave it no second 
thought. Little they suspected that this camouflage of 
vegetation concealed a man and a woman, concealed two 


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spies, whose capture meant a fortune to the lucky devil 
who brought it about. 

After floating down the river for a quarter mile, the 
fugitives came to a pontoon bridge. The spaces be- 
tween the pontoons were not more than five feet wide, 
and Max was fearful that their float would not pass. 
His fears were unfounded, for they glided through 
without touching. When they were but thirty feet be- 
low the bridge, a train of guns and caissons clattered 
across it. Then came men, hundreds and hundreds of 
them and after the men, a line of huge auto trucks. 

A half mile further on, they passed the first line, 
which was to them the last line, of German trenches, 
and Max began to hope that their greatest danger was 
over. He was suddenly undeceived for, upon turning 
a bend in the stream, he saw before him, not five hun- 
dred feet away, a barricade across the river, of timbers 
and barbed wire, behind which stood a dozen men with 
rifles and machine guns. It was a veritable machine 
gun nest. 

He guided their floating island to the bank, where it 
was somewhat protected by a screen of overhanging 
bushes. 

“Here is where our voyage ends,” said he, sorrow- 
fully. “We must now take to the open, and depend 
upon our legs alone. We have passed the German lines 
unharmed, for which I am duly thankful, and we have 
come to No Man’s Land, for which I am not a bit 
thankful. I had hoped to float through No Man’s Land, 


THE WHIPPET TANK 


327 


but if vve do, we must float on angel’s wings. I would 
like to wait here until dark, but we would run the risk 
of being discovered, and would gain nothing after all. 
No Man's Land is as dangerous at night as it is in the 
day time. The whine of bullets, the shriek and explo- 
sion of shells goes on over No Man's Land by night as 
well as day. By day, too, we might dodge a shell or 
two. Jaqueline, raise your head a trifle, and take a look 
at the deadly desert which we have to traverse.” 

Jaqueline raised herself and peered between the 
leafy branches of her shelter. Before her, as far as the 
eye could reach, stretched a most awful and desolate 
waste. No green thing lived in all that shell torn ex- 
panse. Here and there, a blackened and armless tree 
trunk lifted itself like a warning finger. Now and then, 
great avalanches of earth and stones, like the eruptions 
of a volcano, shot up into the air. 

“What a perfectly frightful place!” she exclaimed 
with a shudder. “Must we really cross it?” 

“Yes, and the sooner we start, the better. We will 
wait until that smoke cloud rolls between us and the 
men upon the barricade. When it does, we must make 
a dash for it.” 

A great cloud of smoke, fanned by the wind, was 
really coming their way. When at last it had com- 
pletely enveloped them, they left their friendly cover of 
branches, and darted up the river bank. Max took 
Jaqueline’s hand, and they raced madly into the terrible 
unknown which lay before them. It was difficult going, 


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for they were running up hill, and the barren, pulver- 
ized earth was filled with pits and craters. Jaqueline 
stumbled and fell more than once, but was caught each 
time and lifted to her feet before she touched the 
ground. Bullets whined past their ears, shells screamed 
and whistled overhead, or exploded in the air with a 
blinding flame, shooting fragments in all directions, or 
dived into the soil, sending tons of earth skyward. 

When they had passed beyond the pall of smoke, 
and were well toward the top of the hill, Max cast a 
look backward. The men behind the barricade which 
crossed the river were using field glasses and were 
pointing in his direction. A long continued spurt of 
flame came from their machine guns, and the whining 
of bullets about them increased ten-fold. 

“They have discovered us, and have trained their 
guns our way,” he shouted to Jaqueline. “We must 
get to that shell hole up there. Quick, Jaqueline, dear, 
show me how you can run.” 

Jaqueline did show him, there was no mistake about 
it. Rarely has a hundred yard dash been made in better 
time. At the very edge of the crater, a bullet grooved 
his arm. He clapped his hand to the wound and swore 
softly. It wouldn’t do to let Jaqueline know about it. 

For two hours they lay in that shell hole, not daring 
to move. It seemed at the last as if the whole German 
army and the British army to boot had taken that par- 
ticular shell hole for a mark. Several times fragments 
of shells came within a few feet of them. Finally a 


THE WHIPPET TANK 


329 


piece of steel as big as a man’s fist thudded into the 
earth not three feet from Jaqueline’s side. She crept all 
the closer to Max. 

“Jaqueline,” said he, “I think that we are going to 
die.” 

“Yes, Max, dear.” 

“Are you afraid to die?” 

“A little. It will be more comfortable than other- 
wise, with you close by me.” 

“Jaqueline, do you love me?” 

“Yes, Max.” 

“Would you have married me, if we had come 
through?” 

“Yes, Max.” 

“Jaqueline, will you kiss me?” 

“Yes.” 

She leaned over, put her mouth to his, and kissed 
him tenderly. 

Max thought no more of shells or bullets. Like 
Rabbi Ben Levi, Elijah and several others, he had gone 
to heaven without first having to die. 

Suddenly there was a new sound, a sound like that 
which comes from a boiler shop. “Rat, tat, tat, Rat, -tat, 
-tat,” it went. Max peered above the rim of the hole, 
and saw a tank standing not a hundred feet away. 
How or when it had got there, he could not tell. Bul- 
lets were raining against its steel sides, and this it was 
which produced the boiler factory noise. It was a 
small tank, not over fifteen feet long and seven feet 


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wide, and it was a British tank. Max recognized it at 
once. Its two steel side doors were swinging open, and 
it was undoubtedly abandoned. 

“Jaqueline,” he shouted, so as to make his voice 
heard above the necessary din, “there is a chance for us 
yet. Take a look above the edge of the crater, and tell 
me if you see what I see.” 

“I see it,” said she, after a glance above the rim of 
the hole. “It’s a tank. I've seen pictures of them of- 
ten.” 

“I’m glad you see it. I was afraid that I was 
dreaming. That’s our chance, Jaqueline, once inside of 
that tank, we need fear neither shell fragments, nor 
bullets. It is proof against everything but a direct shell 
hit. When I say ‘three’ we will make a run for it.” 

They crept to the top of the crater, Max counted 
three, and they made a mad dash for the tank. Max 
picked Jaqueline up bodily, tumbled her inside, and 
dove through the opening himself. To close the steel 
doors and pull down the heavy lever which fastened 
them was the work of a moment. When it was done, 
they sat down upon a steel bench inside the doors and 
gave a happy laugh of relief. Jaqueline went to the 
front of the machine, and peered out through the ob- 
servation holes. 

“There is nothing to be seen but that red spurt of 
guns and the explosion of shells,” said she. 

Just in front of her, there were two machine guns, 
whose barrels passed through horizontal slots in the 


THE WHIPPET TANK 


331 


steel case of the tank, each one fixed to move about in 
the radius of a quadrant. Max found clips of cart- 
ridges and attached them to the guns. 

“We won’t use them unless we are attacked by in- 
fantry,” said he. 

After gazing through the observation holes for ten 
minutes, Jaqueline noticed that Max was unusually 
silent. She turned about, and saw that he was work- 
ing over the engine. 

“I’m trying to find why they abandoned the tank,” 
said he, “I tried to start the engine with the electric 
starter, but it wouldn’t go. By Jove, here’s the trouble ! 
One of the spark plug wires is broken, broken inside of 
the insulation. That’s why they couldn’t find it. I’ll 
bet mv hat we’ll go when I fix it. Wouldn’t it be a 
joke?” 

When the wire was mended he again pressed the 
starting button, but the engine was silent. A second 
time he tried it, and the engine began to hum. He took 
his seat on the perch before the stteering wheel, and 
threw in the clutch. The ponderous old elephant of a 
tank groaned and creaked, but commenced to crawl, 
like a caterpillar, over the shell-pitted ground. Max 
brought the monster about, until she was headed 
toward Arras and the British lines. She wasn’t like a 
smoothly geared motor car, and she didn’t run like a 
sewing machine. She wrenched along with a noise like 
that made by a dozen freight trains. The constant 
rattle of machine gun bullets upon her boiler plate sides 


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added to the fiendish din, and made a horrid pande- 
monium of sound. The road, a succession of shell cra- 
ters, hillocks and ravines, was not adapted to motoring. 
Now they went up, and now they went down, now they 
went this way, and now they went that way, for all the 
world as if they were in a small boat upon a heavy sea. 
Notwithstanding everything, though, they were pro- 
gressing, they were nearing the Allied lines. 

“What do you think of that?” Max shouted to the 
delighted Jaqueline. “We’ll be inside the British lines 
in half an hour. Glory be to the Englishman who in- 
vented the whippet tank.” 

“What a funny name for it! .What does it mean?” 

“It means a little tank, a baby tank.” 

“If this is a baby tank, what an awful monster a full 
grown one must be. Perhaps the British will fire on 
us when we approach their lines. Have you thought of 
that?” 

“Not by a good deal they won’t. Don’t you sup- 
pose they know their own baby tanks ? A father does- 
n’t always know his own son, but an army knows its 
own tanks.” 

Things went smoothly until they had lumbered 
along for twenty-five minutes, and were within five 
hundred yards of the British trenches. Then there 
came a terrific crash and a blinding flash of light. The 
tank stopped, and Maxi was jolted to the floor, where he 
lay motionless. He felt quite serene and contented, for 
a lot of angels with harps sat about him and played the 
Star Spangled Banner. 


CHAPTER XXIV 
Decorations 

When Max awoke, he was lying in bed. The bed- 
stead was of enameled iron, the mattress and pillows 
were soft and the bed coverings were spotlessly white. 
Twisting his head first one way and then the other, he 
became aware of the fact that his bed was in the middle 
of a row of beds, which stretched away in both direc- 
tions as far as he could see. 

He went to raise himself upon his elbow. At once 
there was a rush of feet with the swish of skirts, and a 
nurse, who had been sitting somewhere back of him, 
bent over him, put her round arm under his shoulders 
and put her face quite close to his. It was a lovely face, 
to him the loveliest face in the world. It was the face 
of Jaqueline. 

“How do you feel?” asked Jaqueline, solicitously. 

“Bully. Never felt better in my life. I’m going to 
get up.” 

“No, you’re not. You can’t get up for a week yet. 
Just be quiet and I will take care of you.” 

“Something hit me. What was it?” 

“A shell hit the back end of the tank, and ripped off 
part of the roof.” 


333 


334 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


“Yes, I remember now. We were in that whippet 
tank. Was it yesterday, or this morning?” 

“You poor boy, it was three weeks ago today. You 
have been unconscious ever since. The doctor an- 
nounced this morning that you would probably recover 
consciousness some time today. I have been sitting 
here for three hours waiting. You were hit in the 
shoulder with a splinter, and you had shell shock. Some 
doctors thought that you had concussion of the brain. 
I wasn’t hurt at all.” 

“What is this place, anyway ?” 

“This is the American Red Cross hospital at Arras. 
I am one of the nurses here. In the beginning of the 
war I fitted myself for a nurse, so that it was an easy 
matter for me to be taken on. More than that, I am 
specially detailed to care for you, Max, dear. The 
British general commanding in Arras saw to that. The 
British are awfully nice, they do everything I wish. 
Nothing is too good for me. I like them almost as well 
as I like the Americans.” 

As Jaqueline said this, she gave Max a roguish yet 
tender look. Max gazed upon her, as she moved here 
and there about the bed, as a devotee looks at the Ma- 
donna. Never had the Red Cross uniform seemed so 
beautiful. Never had such a beautiful girl worn it. 

“I have some great news for you, Max,” she con- 
tinued. “The Germans commenced their Paris drive 
on the fifteenth, according to the decision of the Cam- 
brai meeting, but General Foch having received advance 


DECORATIONS 


335 


notice of their intentions, got together a great number 
of men and guns upon the Soissons-Chateau Thierry- 
Rheims line, and gave them a most awful whipping. He 
made them run away, and they haven’t stopped running 
yet.” 

“That’s splendid, Jaqueline. The American forces 
held the sector at Chateau Thierry. Fll bet they gave 
a good account of themselves.” 

“Yes, the first check was given the Germans by 
American forces in the Belleau woods, near Chateau 
Thierry. The Germans were astonished, for they had 
heard that the Americans couldn’t fight. Max, dear, 
they should have seen you, as I have seen you.” 

“And to think, Jaqueline, dearest, that this great 
Allied success was due to you and to you alone. You 
have good reason to be glad and proud.” 

“Nonsense, the Allied Commander probably had 
other sources of information. Besides, I couldn’t have 
sent off my carrier pigeon message without your aid. 
You protected me and held them back when I sneezed, 
or I would have been caught. A great part of the hon- 
or belongs to you. And, Max, dear, I have some more 
wonderful news. A certain Lieutenant Maxwell Flint, 
an American member of the French flying corps, has 
been cited for bravery and for distinguished service, 
and is to be decorated in a few days with the British 
Military cross.” 

“Pouf, I don’t know where the bravery came in. I 
remember distinctly that I had goose flesh on a number 


336 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


of occasions. Also I don’t remember having performed 
any distinguished service.” 

“You rescued me from the conciergerie prison at 
Cambrai, didn’t you ? You brought me through the 
German lines and delivered me safely to the British at 
Arras, didn’t you? You saved a British tank, and re- 
stored it to the British army, didn’t you? When you 
preserved my life at Cambrai, you saved the life of a 
person of great importance. So everyone seems to 
think. Anyway, you’re going to get the cross. My 
opinion is, Max, dear, that no one ever deserved it more 
than you.” 

“But how about you, Jaqueline? If I deserve a 
cross, you ought to have a dozen of them. Aren’t they 
going to give you a cross ?” 

“The French are going to give me the French War 
Cross. A French general is coming here on Friday 
specially to confer the honor. Your cross and my cross 
are to be given us on the same day. But, Max, why 
don’t they give you the French war cross, too?” 

“Because they have already done so. I had it a 
year ago.” 

“But why don’t you wear it? I never saw it.” 

“One doesn’t wear them, you know. After they 
are pinned on, we take them off, and put them away 
somewhere. Jaqueline, darling, I have been thinking of 
something. While we were lying in that shell crater, 
did you tell me that you loved me, or did I dream it?” 

“I told you, Max dear.” 


DECORATIONS 


337 


“And did you really kiss me, or was that a dream ?” 

“It wasn’t a dream.” 

“Then it was also true that you said you would 
marry me if we got through alive?” 

“That was true, too.” 

“I can scarcely believe it all. You might make me 
believe it, if you kissed me again.” 

After glancing up and down the hospital ward, to 
see if anyone was looking, Jaqueline leaned over, and 
did her best to make Max believe. 

The few days that followed were extremely happy 
ones for Max and Jaqueline. Max grew well quickly, 
and was sitting up three days after he came to con- 
sciousness. Jaqueline brought his meals, talked to him, 
read to him, and held his hand whenever he wanted. 
General Haig’s attack uopn the Amiens sector took 
place just then. Max and Jaqueline read accounts of 
it from the same newspaper, with their heads close to- 
gether. When a man and a girl read from the same 
newspaper, it is easy to snatch a kiss now and then, 
without anybody knowing of it. 

One morning there was commotion and excitement 
in the hospital. The great doors of the ward in which 
Max lay opened, a number of persons streamed into the 
ward and advanced down the passage between the rows 
of beds toward Max and Jaqueline. At the head of the 
procession came the chief surgeon of the hospital, a 
smooth-faced, bronzed British general in full uniform, 
and a white-moustached French general, also in com- 

22 


338 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


plete regalia, with them was a handsome young French 
captain of the French flying corps, and in the rear came 
several orderlies and a half dozen newpaper men. 

“Here they are,” announced the surgeon, indicating 
Max and Jaqueline. “General Fox and General Fou- 
geray, allow me to present Mademoiselle Jaqueline de 
Keranec and Lieutenant Maxwell Flint.” 

The young French captain, regardless of formali- 
ties and the exigencies of the program, ran forward and 
clasped Jaqueline in his arms. 

“They are brother and sister,” explained the sur- 
geon, apologetically. 

“Where is that old rascal, Max?” asked Paul de 
Keranec, after he had sufficiently embraced Jaqueline. 

Jaqueline pointed toward the bed upon which sat 
Max, propped up by pillows. Paul de Keranec went to 
him, shook his hand, and kissed him upon both cheeks. 

“When your plane failed to return, I thought you 
were dead,” said he. “I might have known that noth- 
ing could kill such a tough old gimper as you. When 
I saw Jaqueline, I learned that you were a prisoner. I 
sympathized with you, for I knew that you would never 
get free.” 

“I a prisoner! When was I a prisoner?” 

“You were taken prisoner by Jaqueline. I knew it 
when I had talked with her a few minutes. When I 
saw that she had captured you, I knew that you were 
done for.” 

“It isn’t likely that he will ever want to escape from 


DECORATIONS 


339 


such a gaoler,” remarked General Fox, gallantly. “But 
we must get to business. General Fougeray leaves by 
the next train.” 

The French general went to Jaqueline, asked after 
her health, and expressed a wish for her continued pros- 
perity and happiness. Then he took the French war 
cross from a waiting orderly, and pinned it upon the 
bosom of her shirt waist. Finally he kissed her upon 
both cheeks. Max didn’t like that, though the general 
was a grizzled veteran. 

General Fox now went through the formality of be- 
stowing the British Military Cross upon Max. 

“Lieutenant Flint,” said he, “I have come to thank 
you on behalf of his Majesty, King George, and in be- 
half of the British Empire, for certain acts of bravery 
and for certain distinguished services which you have 
performed. His Majesty has sent you this cross as a 
mark of his esteem and affection. I hope that you will 
live many years to wear it.” 

Saying this, he took a small bronze cross from his 
orderly, and pinned it upon the recipient’s shirt front. 
He now shook hands with Max, vigorously, and the 
ceremony was ended. 

After the officials had departed, and when Paul de 
Keranec also had left them, Jaqueline and Max still 
remained together. The twilight came, but still Jaque- 
line sat on. For the most part, they were silent, with 
a silence which was more eloquent and more satisfac- 
tory than words. Now and then there were brief ques- 


340 


MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 


tions and answers, questions and answers which had to 
do mainly with the subject of love. 

“My luckiest day,” remarked Max, “was the day 
when my motor stalled, and my plane came down out- 
side the walls of Cambrai. What was your luckiest 
day, Jaqueline, dearest?” 

“My luckiest day was the day when I first saw 
Father Max,” said she, archly. 

“What was your happiest moment?” 

“My happiest moment was when I first knew that 
Father Max loved me. What was yours?” 

“My happiest moment is now. The next moment 
will be happier, and so on to the end. My happiness 
grows with each moment that I possess my Jaqueline, 
my lovely, my beautiful lady of Cambrai.” 

Max presently went to sleep, but still Jaqueline sat 
watching by his pillow. It seemed to her that she 
would be content to do so forever and ever. 


David Skaats Foster’s 
Novels 

MADEMOISELLE OF CAMBRAI 
THE ROAD TO LONDON 
THE DIVIDED MEDAL 
OUR UNCLE WILLIAM 
THE KIDNAPPED DAMOZEL 
FLIGHTY ARETHUSA 
THE BENEVOLENT BANDITS 
THE LADY OF CASTLE QUEER 


All 12tno. Cloth 

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FRANKLIN BOOK COMPANY 

NEW YORK 


“ Flighty Arethusa ” 


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“ Alraschid in Petticoates ” 

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— Brooklyn Standard Union. 















































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